


We Must Choose Our Own Path

by jarethsdragon



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Fairy Tale Style, Fairy tale retelling, Sojiro Shimada - Freeform, Yakuza Genji Shimada, Yakuza Hanzo Shimada, fairy tale
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2019-06-14
Packaged: 2020-05-07 20:45:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 16
Words: 50,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19217209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jarethsdragon/pseuds/jarethsdragon
Summary: After losing her parents, Belle was forced to go along with whatever her guardian—Jesse McCree—wants.  Even when he suggests going to the mysterious Shimadas to play a poker game.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [namewhatname](https://archiveofourown.org/users/namewhatname/gifts), [iLoveHanzoMoreThanSleep](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iLoveHanzoMoreThanSleep/gifts).



> Dedicated to NameWhatName who posted on my third chapter of my story Neko and suggested this plot to me. Thanks!
> 
> Also dedicated to ILoveHanzoMoreThanSleep, who keeps tabs on what I write and keeps reading.

Once upon a time, there was a girl who loved her mother very much. The girl loved her mother and father, loved the sprawling ranch that they lived and worked on. She loved the brown and white horse that her father gave her when she was six and they trained the horse together until she could ride it anywhere. She loved going riding with her family, her long brown hair in thick braids down her back and the sun shining in her brown eyes.

When she was ten, her father died and her mother was heartbroken. The girl did her best, trying to take care of the ranch as much as she could and help her mother wherever she needed it. Unfortunately, the mother got very ill and the girl found that there was almost no money for the medicine. There was no money for anything—just the large plot of land and the cattle and the few horses that were left.

Then, the cowboy showed up. Or, at least, he dressed up like a cowboy—if you were living in the late 1800’s. He talked with a deep twang, strutting around in high cowboy boots with his spurs jangling. He seemed to know a little about cattle—but not as much as he claimed. Unfortunately, he always carried a wickedly huge hand-cannon of a pistol like a cowboy, too, and no one was willing to argue.

At sixteen, her mother died and she found herself sitting in the small room that served as her late father’s office, staring at the cowboy—who said his name was Jesse McCree—as he lit a cigar as he lounged at her father’s desk. “Now, darlin’, you understand, don’t ya?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “There just ain’t no more money for the ranch.”

Belle nodded. She had been over the books numerous times and there just wasn’t anything left. “I know.”

He nodded smugly, sitting back in her father’s chair, puffing out some smoke. “I got a buyer, though.”

“For how much?” Belle asked softly.

“Enough,” he shrugged.

“Enough for what?” Belle cocked her head curiously. “Mother’s insurance paid the last of the medical bills, didn’t it?”

He shrugged. “I was thinkin’ we could do better if we got somewhere a little less...expensive.”. He shrugged again, glancing around. “Maybe travel a bit.”

Belle frowned, perplexed. “Travel? We have always had the holidays here. We have always—.”

He scowled, taking a swallow of the whiskey before another puff of his cigar. “Now don’t get started with that again—I told you there’s nothin’ left here. Besides, there ain’t nothin’ here that ya can’t find bigger and better in the city.” He rustled in a drawer. “And I’m on this paper as your guardian, so ya really don’t got a lot ta say.”

“But, my mother never—!”

“It’s her signature, ain’t it?”

“Yes, but—!”

“Then I’m it. And I say you’d better pack yer bags cause we’re going traveling.”

‘Traveling’ with Jesse McCree meant going to Las Vegas, first, with the massive bankroll from selling the ranch going to the poker table. He hit a bad luck streak and they left Nevada in the dark of night. Then it was Tijuana, then a boat going down the Mississippi River. Then it was the Horseshoe Casino in Baltimore, before heading back to Nevada. Their zigzag traveling depended entirely on how well the cards were running.

Belle was continually stuck in some shabby apartment now. She did mending, cleaning, waitressing, washing—whatever she could to bring in a few dollars. She could clean better than any maid and, when the money was really tight, she knew she could find a job at whatever hotel or apartments were nearby. Jesse would waltz in around 2 in the morning, smelling of whiskey and smoke and he would toss the roll of whatever bills he had won on the tables that night and then sleep until the afternoon when it would start again. So, she would try to get money however she could.

It was getting lean again, the money drying up no matter how much she tried to make it stretch. If Jesse didn’t win something tonight, they might not have an apartment anymore. At least his battered pickup truck was paid for and so very old that no one would want it. Otherwise, they really would be in the cold if they lost this shabby, kitchen-bedroom apartment.

She was sitting with a shirt in her lap, trying to mend the worn-out embroidery on the lapels when Jesse burst in, crowing and waving yet another bottle of whiskey. “Darlin’—I done it!”

“What?” she asked mechanically without looking up.

“I got a good game comin’ up,” he laughed. “And yer never gonna believe it.”

Belle shrugged. Her hair was a uniform length curtain of brown, now, and almost always in a braid or a bun. She had only a few pairs of denim pants, three shirts and a rather ratty green a-line dress which did her no favors. Still, she had a pleasantly heart shaped face with wide brown eyes and had been blessed with her mother’s dusky clear skin that always gave her a vaguely sun-kissed complexion.

“Don’t ya even care?” Jesse snapped impatiently. “I mean—I worked an’ worked ta get the invite.”

She stared at the complicated swirl of thread on his shirt. “So, who is it?”

“Yer never gonna guess—but I’ll tell ya.” He grinned and took a swig of whiskey from the bottle, clicking his heels together. “I got an invite ta play with th’ Shimadas.”

“The who?” Belle asked, her eyes finally going up to his stubbly face. Sometime in the past months, he had lost the artfully scruffy and puppyish look and his face was starting to show his whiskey and smoking and poor living. He insisted on having his boots polished and his clothes pressed and looking neat, but it was only a matter of time before even that would not make him look like more than a vagabond. “Who are the Shimadas?”

“Loaded,” Jesse smirked, flopping against a thin wall. “They are absolutely loaded.”

“They?”

“Yeah—there’s two of them,” he nodded, swigging more whiskey. “Brothers. They got a huge place on the strip—titties and slots and stuff and whiskey and really classy—but their nice place is further out.”

“And?” Belle was almost afraid to ask. There was a pungency to the air that had nothing to do with the foul, cheap whiskey bleeding off of Jesse. It felt like this was something momentous, something heavy with the feel of destiny. “So what?”

Jesse cursed, swinging the bottle in an arc. “Are ya that stupid? Really?!” He took another swallow. “I tell ya it’s the Shimadas and I’m in their game day after tomorrow and ya don’t know nothing.”

“So they...have money?” Belle guessed hesitantly, staring at the bottle as it wobbled in his hands. “And you are going to play them?”

“Yeah,” Jesse nodded with a smile. “I got an invite and their games never have limits.” He waggled his eyebrows. “I can get enough ta get out of this hellhole and back into the good games again.”

“Oh,” Bella sighed. Another game that they didn’t have money for—what was new in that? Still, it meant he would be out of the apartment for a good long while and she could get some extra hours in. Why was she even here? Because she had been afraid of being in the “real world” and off the ranch and like a child had gone with the first friendly adult who had offered to take care of her. “That’s nice.”

Jesse swallowed again, the whiskey dribbling out of his mouth now. “And I gotta plan that’ll make sure that I win.”

“You’re not going to cheat again?!” Bella gasped. “That nearly got us both arrested in Baltimore. You were lucky that you were able to convince them to just bar you from the property.”

Jesse’s cheeks turned red. “They didn’t have nothing on me.” He shrugged clumsily. “Besides—this ain’t nothing like that.” He laughed too loud. “Yeah—the Shimada’s are some tough customers. Cheat them and ya get killed right there. Someone said that even beating them might get ya killed, too.”

“Why on earth are you so happy to go there, then?!”

“Cause they got lots of money. Like, more money than God—and they both like a good poker game.” He smirked and leered at Belle, his chocolate eyes going up and down slowly and far too intimately. “And I got an ace in the hole.”

Belle flushed. Of course, in this tiny apartment, there was nowhere to hide or even really to exit the room. “What is it this time?”

“Well...they like poker and drinkin’ and I’m gonna have a little distraction,” he drawled. Again, his eyes went up and down slowly. “Yeah...a little distraction and they won’t know nothin’.”

Belle pulled back. “Uhh...no. I am just going to have to back out.”

He sputtered angrily, his cheeks matching his reddened nose. “Ya gotta. Ain’t gonna have a prayer of staying in the game long enough without ya.”

“No,” Belle said firmly. “Now...I’m going to fix some food.”

“Aww, hell, you mean beans and rice or something,” he cursed hard enough she gasped and blushed. “But ya have to help.”

Belle shook her head, going to the small burners and her one pot. Beans and rice was a good meal for pennies per serving. “I’m not going to do anything. What do I know about poker?”

“Ya know,” he growled, “I done worked my fingers ta the bone tryin’ to keep us up. Th’ least ya could do is be grateful enough to help out th’ one time I ask ya.”

Belle shook her head, picking up the bag of rice and pouring some in the battered pot. “I can’t—I would just be in the way and I’d—.” She screeched as his hand slammed across her hips and he spun her around to look up at him. “What are you doing?!”

His hand came up and jerked towards her face. “If’n ya had a lick of sense, you’d see that I’m doing this fer us.” He scowled, his breath foul. “I want ya to get cleaned up tomorrow and get ready ta go with me. I even got ya a new dress.” Belle shook in fear as his hand jerked up again, ready to slap her. “Yer my distraction—my ace in th’ hole—and ya better be ready.”

“But I don’t know anything about poker!” Belle whimpered back. “I can’t do it.”

“All ya need ta do is look good,” he purred as she cowered back against the wall. “One of them Shimadas got a real taste for Western girls. So, all ya have to do is give him a bit of a show.”

“You...you said that there was two of them,” she whimpered.

“Heh,” he snorted. “Yeah...but ya do yer job right with the younger one, and the older one will be so busy tryin’ ta keep his brother straight that he won’t see anythin’ coming.”

Belle shook, trying to scoot away. Abruptly, he grabbed her arms and shook her, forcing a cry out of her. “I can’t.”

“I say ya can,” he hissed. “And yer gonna do it or I’ll...I’ll sell ya to the first pimp who’ll take ya.” Belle cowered away from the pot of dry rice. “I won’t have no cowardly bitch breaking up my chances to finally get into a good game.”

Belle scooted further away from him, ashamed and scared as he raged above her. He slammed the empty bottle on the counter and she saw the thick glass crack. “But...I—.”

“If’n ya say ‘I can’t’ one more time, I’ll tie ya up and give ya to them both!” he snarled. “I’ve done it all for ya, and the least ya can do is help me out a bit.” From somewhere he pulled out a length of rope and wrapped it around her, all but hogtying her, before tossing her to the bed. “Now we’re gonna sleep and tomorrow yer gonna get dressed up and pretty and be ready to party.”


	2. Chapter 2

She shuddered when he woke her the next morning. Suddenly, she had tons of things to do—scrub and polish his boots and belt and the huge belt buckle, mend his undershorts and his shirt, press his clothes, scrub his hat with a dry sponge and brush. Then she had to boil extra water so that he could shave—twice because his scrubby beard grew in so thick—and get his serape cleaned up and shine his spurs. Then he had her bathe—in cold water because he had used all the hot—and shave all over and scrub her hair twice.

“Come on out, darlin’,” he drawled, taking out one of his last cigars. “I wanna be sure yer all clean like I asked.”

Bella came out of the tiny bathroom with the singular damp towel wrapped around her. “Okay—I’m out.”

“Let me see ya,” he prodded, holding a small bag in his other fist. “All the way up.” She pulled up the towel a bit, showing her soft legs. “Them Japanese ain’t gonna like hairy women an’ ya need to be clean.”

Bella blushed, trying to keep the towel wrapped around her. Jesse had been all over her, demanding she get cleaned up and even giving her a new razor instead of handing her a used one of his. “I’m cleaned up like...like you told me.”

“Show me,” he purred with a lecherous smirk. “All the way to the waist.” She shivered and, seeing the steely glint in his eyes, pulled up the towel to give him a brief glimpse of the cleanly shaven V between her thighs. Flushing, she saw him shake his head. “Darlin’—I’m gonna be sure yer all cleaned up.”

He pulled out a Swiss army knife and flipped out the tweezers. Pushing her to the bed, he ripped away the towel. “Let me get the last little hairs.” A few painful pulls later, he nodded, sliding the knife back into his pocket. “That’s the last of them.”

Tossing the bag to her, he only grunted, “Now get dressed. We gotta leave soon.”

The rickety pickup truck rattled down the road, making Bella jump every time she had to pull the slippery skirt down over the lacy garters on her thighs. Jesse only laughed at her as she struggled. “Yer awfully jumpy, ain’t ya?”

Bella flushed and groaned and tugged it again. “It’s your fault.” He snickered at her. “It’s your fault that I’m in this stupid dress and going to this stupid thing.”

“Hold on,” he snapped with a scowl. “Ya need to be grateful I even got this chance. Ya really should be kissing my ass that I’ve taken ya on this far.”

Bella hissed at him. And tugged the minuscule skirt down again. “If my mother had been in her right mind, I’d still have the ranch and—OW!”

Jesse smirked, “I can’t give ya the paddling that you deserve now, but ya ain’t allowed to be stroppy. I don’t tolerate backtalk.” He puffed out a breath. “I got a chance to get a huge payroll outta this, and I ain’t gonna let you ruin it. Maybe even enough to get that run down ranch of yours back.

“And if ya ruin it, I ain’t gonna stop paddling you for a week. We’ll see how high and mighty you are after that. And if that don’t stop it, I’ll keep doin’ it and haulin’ you to the bedroom and tying you down—.”

Bella gasped, “You can’t do that!”

The cowboy shrugged. “I ain’t yer pa. I ain’t married and you ain’t my daughter and ya ain’t got nothing but what I give ya, so if you don’t like it, you can get out of the truck now and walk!”

Belle stared out the almost foreign desert whizzing past your truck window. She wouldn’t last a half second out there in this get up—high heels, hose, a skinny stripper dress out of some kind of thin fabric that made you blush. If she managed to avoid the dehydration and wild animals, she still had the two legged animals to deal with—and they were brutes who wouldn’t kill her quickly, either. There was no other option except to keep going with him, wherever it was.

The estate that he drove up to was actually terrifying with its huge sandstone walls. The iron gate with its immense iron dragons circling each other actually hummed as the suited man standing there spoke to Jesse through the rolled down window and confirmed his identity. The suited man nodded and the hum stopped before the gate opened.

Jesse’s rickety truck drove through, over the gravel driveway. Stone lanterns lined the driveway and there was a large tori gate out of some dark wood over the driveway. Then, around a bend that circled a beautiful natural stone with a subtle highlight from below, there was a sprawling building in white stone with clay tiles on the roof. At first glance, the arches and white stone seemed to be almost Moroccan, but there was a cleanness and a plainness to the style, too. Instead of a lush green area, though, there was a clean area of small white rocks bordered with dark planks, raked around natural stones. A beautiful agave plant was highlighted with soft lights next to the large door where more suited men waited by the immense door.

Jesse grumbled softly as the ancient pickup rumbled to a stop and he shot her a look. Mumbling softly, he snarled at you, “Don’t fuck this up, darlin’. Remember, yer the ticket to the whole shootin’ match.”

Belle nodded slowly and slunk out. It was hard to pick her way around the old truck in these heels, but it was harder to stand as the security men—one a blond who seemed to scream Midwestern American and another who had a heavily tooled leather eyepatch over his Indian features—patted her down. She decided—sarcastically—that they must face ninjas or something if anyone in this kind of revealing outfit managed to get something into the locked down house.

The house itself was in a cool, white Pueblo style with thick, pale adobe walls towering upwards. The edges of what appeared to be palm trees or something peeked out from the flat roof. Occasionally, there was a jutting out roof beam—called a viga—could be seen, as could a small number of deeply set square windows. The second floor seemed to step in from the width of the first floor, forming a second story balcony.

Jesse grunted as the heavy wooden door was opened and he hustled Belle towards the door. Belle was agog at the deep doorway—deep enough to have a built in niche with a bench over square cubbies—and the metal star light overhead. She stared at the metal star that covered the brilliant bulb—the lacy pattern of hole punches and the occasional stained glass circle in cobalt blue, turquoise and grass green making the whole space lacy with light.

Jesse leaned over and pushed her onto the bench. “Take off yer shoes.”

Belle took in a deep breath and slid off the spindly heels. Unfortunately the sky high heels wouldn’t fit inside the tiny cubbies any more than Jesse’s high cowboy boots. The two guards snickered and one of them opened up the heavy wood door.

Belle shivered as she stepped inside in the massive front room. The floor was wide pieces of gray slate and the dark brown or black furniture had crisp, clean lines. Unlike a lot of places in this area, there wasn’t the usual collection of pots of overflowing flowers and religious icons and pictures of canyons or horses and pottery laying around. Instead, there was only a tiny, twisted tree in a beautiful square pot under an ink painting of a coiling dragon on a low shelf and a row of some kind of slippers on the floor.

Belle picked up the first pair and slid her feet into them. They were thickly cushioned on the bottom and her feet sank into them gratefully. These plain slippers were a far cry from the thin, floppy ones with the holes in the toes she had back at Jesse’s apartment. These had stiff grips on the bottom and it felt like there was a soothing support under the arches of her feet. The slippers showed her even more clearly that these people had money on a level she had never even seen before to have such costly things simply laying around for guests to use.

On the other hand, Jesse’s feet were far too large for even the largest slippers. He grumbled bitterly, hunting for ones for himself and glaring at Belle as she easily found hers. One of the guards snickered slightly at the glaring hole in the toe of his sock where his rough toenails had ripped through the clumsily darned sock on his left foot.

Finally giving up, he shrugged and simply moved aside. “Come on, Belle. We don’t wanna be late for the game.”

Belle nodded slowly and padded after the cowboy. The rooms they moved through were so beautifully decorated with spare, crisp furniture in black or brown and natural taupe that it was impossible to believe that anything was not outrageously expensive. Even the small carved switch plates with their slim lines of inlaid gold around the edges screamed money.

The large lounge that they were led to held only a few pieces of exquisite furniture: a rectangular cabinet that held a few heavy crystal bottles of alcohol and a collection of matching tumblers with a thin gold rim around the tops behind a heavy table of some wood with exotic golden and dark bands across it with a few heavily upholstered low chairs around it. The high ceiling arched overhead in more of the cool, white stucco, broken only by a dark ceiling fan with bright bulbs behind frosted glass.

Belle flushed at the stare of the man sitting at the table. He was handsome in an exotic way, with hot black almond shaped eyes, sharp features with high cheekbones and a slight mark or scratch along one cheek. He had a thin line of hair along his square jaw and over his full lips. His hair was long and black except for a few brushes of silvery gray along his temples and pulled back in a ponytail that drifted down between his shoulders like a perfect ink line. Even his suit—a brilliant white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbow, a tight fitting, embroidered blue vest and close fitting, steel gray wool pants—showed designer details.

The man cocked an eyebrow and sat back, dropping a glance at the large gold watch on his wrist. Belle’s mouth went dry to see the colorful tattoo going down his left arm and under the gold watch. He watched her carefully, saying only, “You are not on time.”

Jesse shrugged as he pulled out a chair and plopped down in it. “Took a while to drive out.”

He leaned back and stared at Belle with that unforgiving look. “And who is this?”

Belle squirmed as he took in her cheap dress and hose. The thin, stretchy material was in a dark, royal blue and while it covered her most necessary parts in theory, it was obviously cheap and it was equally obvious that she had little to nothing on underneath it. A dark flush went to her cheeks as he looked at her up and down. Her dress was so obviously cheap and it’s purpose was so blatant, she felt like a whore.

Jesse answered for her, “She’s my....”

“A friend,” the other man finished firmly with an exotic accent. Jesse nodded slowly and he finally grinned. “How...nice.”

Jesse chuckled as Belle pulled out a chair and sat down beside him. “And where’s your brother? It’s not like him to miss a good game.”

“Genji is...otherwise detained.” He looked at Belle and nodded solemnly. “You have to forgive my manners. As for introductions, I am Hanzo and my brother is Genji.”

Belle turned red again. “I...It’s not.... I mean, it’s nice to meet you...sir.”

Hanzo gave her a smile and his teeth seemed brilliantly white against his dusky skin and the glistening, dark hair above his lip. “We should be friends and dispense with propriety. You may address me as ‘Hanzo’ and what name should I use for you?”

She swallowed heavily. “My name is Belle,” she whispered, glancing down at the thin fabric of her dress covering her lap.

He smirked and his eyes sparkled a bit. “If I remember my French correctly, it means, ‘beautiful’.” Hanzo cocked his head as she gave him a small half-smile and a nod. “In my tongue, it is ‘kireina’.”

Belle nodded slowly, shy at his unexpectedly warm smile. “I...I see.”

“It is...sometimes hard to pronounce things in your tongue,” he smirked. “I do hope you understand.”

Belle felt Jesse jab her with his elbow. “O-o-of...sure. Of course.”

“My thanks,” Hanzo nodded.

Jesse grunted with a smile. “So we’re playing, right?”

“Of course,” Hanzo nodded. “We can begin.”

“Without Genji?”

Hanzo shrugged slightly. “I do not know if he is going to be here tonight. But we can begin and see how we go.”

“So where’s the cards?” Jesse snorted stiffly.

“Of course.” Hanzo nodded towards one of the silent, suited men in the doorway. The other man spun around and left the room. “Would you or your Kireina want some kind of refreshment?”

Jesse jumped as someone—a Japanese servant who looked to be around forty in his crisp silver suit—came up behind him with a polished wooden tray holding four boxed decks of cards and a wooden holder of red, white, blue, green, gray and black chips in six neat stacks. The tray was so smooth that everything seemed to be in a mirror reflection, making it look even more surreal.

Belle watched silently as Hanzo nodded at the man, giving him a few words of what might be thanks. The suited man gestured towards the tray and Jesse picked up two decks with elaborate designs on the back—one in blue and the other in red. Hanzo nodded and moved the chip holder to the table, then waved imperiously and the tray was whisked away without a sound.

Hanzo nodded towards Jesse. “If you would care to check, but I am sure that the cards are in order.”

Jesse huffed and opened the plastic wrapped boxes. Spreading the cards out, he picked out the obligatory few cards holding advertisements and a few that said “Canasta Rules” and “Poker Odds”. Looking at the spread cards and nodding, he said, “All right. Let’s play.”

Hanzo only nodded, leaning his chin on his fist. “If you want to get started.”

“Well, all right,” the cowboy grinned. “How about five card draw, dealer chooses wilds and one draw?” The other man nodded slowly. “So, how about aces wild?”

“As you wish,” Hanzo nodded. He took out stacks of chips and divided them up into three piles. He smiled at Belle and began to move a stack of white chips towards her. “Here are yours—.”

Jesse guffawed, holding his side as he kept laughing. “Belle? Playing poker?! You must be crazy.” He playfully punched her shoulder and seemed oblivious to her wince. “She’s just here for fun.”

Hanzo arched an eyebrow stiffly, frowning at the other man. “That is—.”

“Go get us something to drink, darlin’.” Jesse pointed towards the collection of bottles with a wave of his hand, obviously imitating the man he was interrupting. “Make mine a double.”

Hanzo coughed harshly, clearing his throat with a glare. “Perhaps she would be...more at ease in the study—.” Belle stared at them both as they glared at each other. “There is—.”

Jesse pushed Belle’s chair, almost tipping her off the chair. “Go get our drinks, darlin’. Now.”

Belle stood shakily, feeling oddly comforted by the other man’s short, shocked gasp. The bottles were unlabeled, but obviously precisely placed. Taking two of the tumblers, she picked up a bottle with amber liquid in it. “Is...is this it?”

Hanzo spoke first in a soft tone. “That is a 2029, single malt, micro-batch, 50 year Scotch.” Standing up suddenly, he walked over to her. Opening up the cabinet, he showed her the small freezer and used a pair of tongs to pick up a small ball of ice about the size of a ping pong ball and artfully put it into a third tumbler. “I find that it has a good mix of smoky and citrus tastes with a caramel finish.” He took the carafe and opened it with a practiced move and poured a small amount. “You have chosen a fine brew to taste.”

Belle froze as he put the tumbler in her hand before he poured another drink with another ice ball. Then, calmly, he put the crystal bottle back precisely where it had been as if he was performing a ritual. “If it is too strong, I can offer you some water or—?”

Belle shook her head slightly and took two tumblers of Scotch back to the table. Jesse picked up the glass as if it was a Mason jar and guzzled it. “Ahhh...that’s good.” He waved the glass at his frowning host. “How about another?”

Hanzo snorted and brought a different bottle to the table. “Of course. The game.” He looked up at her with a half-smile. “Kireina—the study is through there—.”

Jesse snorted again and patted the chair. “Why not let her stay and watch?” His head rolled slightly as Hanzo sighed impatiently and poured him a second drink. “She might be good luck.” 

Belle sighed and sat down again. Hanzo’s eyes narrowed as he looked at Jesse. The cowboy only began shuffling as he sat down, studying his tumbler. The cowboy dealt out the hand as Hanzo rearranged the chips. They both threw in a single white chip and began playing.

Jesse threw down two cards and poured himself another drink. Belle stared as he drew a garbage hand and bet on it anyway. Hanzo glanced up at him and then down at his cards again before calling and dropping in a matching bet. Unsurprisingly, Hanzo won with two pairs.

Jesse took another heavy swallow as Hanzo shuffled and dealt, calling eights as wild. Belle sat back, watching the cowboy’s cards. There wasn’t much else she could do except watch the cards go back and forth. Jesse refused to let her follow the other man’s suggestion to go into another room or do anything else except watch. Finally, she picked up the extra card that gave the names of poker hands and the odds of getting any particular hand to study it.

Jesse scowled at her as he folded the next hand and tossed his cards on the table. “Don’t tell all ya know!”

Belle blinked at him nervously, staring at his bloodshot eyes and the pink spot on his nose. “Um...I wasn’t?”

“Ya don’t gotta tell my hand,” he snapped back. “You read like a new deck.”

Hanzo cleared his throat. “Perhaps she should go to another room.” He gave her a sympathetic look and a half smirk. “I believe that my brother has a few movies—.”

Jesse let out a disgusted noise. “I think she shoulda sat by you instead.” His eyes narrowed at Belle for another moment. “No other explanation unless the deck is marked.”

Hanzo pulled back, scowling. “That is...unnecessary. The decks you chose yourself and were unwrapped.” He took a slow sip of his drink. “If it is...unreasonable to expect you to conduct yourself as a refined person should, then quitting would seem to be—.”

“Hold on, partner,” Jesse interrupted. He gave Belle a knowing, salacious grin. “If it’s all that important to ya, then I uses I don’t got any problem with her staying.”

“Good,” he nodded as he began shuffling again.

Another few hands and another few chips slid back and forth between them. Belle kept watching, trying to figure out their strategies. They seemed to be fairly even for the moment, but Belle worried, nibbling her lip as Jesse traded in a black chip for an assortment of blue and red ones.

Hanzo looked calm and collected as Jesse began to shuffle again. “Genji never said how he met you or how you came to be at his table.”

Jesse offered a shrug and a drawl. “Well, I am that good.” He shrugged with a comfortable—whiskey soaked—grin. “He was on a losing streak anyway.”

“Hmm...yes. But only a few thousand.” Hanzo stared at the cowboy with a frozen smile on his face. “I do not see why you became—.”

“O-o-only a few...thousand?!” Jesse gaped.

“Nine thousand, one hundred and twenty,” Hanzo replied. “It was under his budget for the week.”

“F-f-for the week?!”

“So, what did make you become involved?”

Belle shivered at his icy tone. Maybe Jesse hadn’t ever been spoken to like he was an errant child or maybe he had never come across someone who would lecture him like he was a small boy. She could hear the censure in his tone, the tonal warning, and it made her shiver to see how Jesse was oblivious to it.

“Aww, hell, he seemed ta be gettin’ in over his head with Slim Malone and them foreigners,” Jesse shrugged, watching as five cards were dealt.

“Oh?” Hanzo asked, raising an eyebrow and picking up his cards.

They tossed in white chips to get started. Jesse grinned, holding his hand carefully to his chest where Belle couldn’t even see that much. Picking up a blue chip, he tossed it in the middle. Hanzo glanced at his cards and nodded, picking up a blue chip and tossing it in.

Jesse plucked out one card and sat it down on the table with a smile as Hanzo picked out two. Just at that moment, one of the stern body guards came in and bowed. Hanzo laid his hand down on the table and nodded solemnly. The guard spoke in rapid, fluid tones in what Belle took to be Japanese.

After a moment, Hanzo nodded again and tossed his hand into the middle of the table. “If you both would be so kind to excuse me, then I need to take care of something.” He pushed himself to his feet and bowed slightly, pushing the chips towards he cowboy. “Please excuse me.”

Without another word, the two men walked out, leaving Jesse and Belle behind. Jesse grinned and scooped up all the chips and began shuffling again. Belle looked at the piles again, fiddling with the stakes card in her hand as Jesse poured himself another drink.

“Should you be drinking like that?” Belle asked worriedly. “That’s like your third or fourth drink.”

“I’m fine,” he hissed, shuffling the cards. “It’s 50 year Scotch my ass, though. That’s just some cheap rotgut.” Belle said nothing about the other man switching bottles, watching the cowboy take another drink. “But ya got in with a chance, don’t ya?”

“What?!”

“Oh, I saw how he treated ya,” Jesse snorted. “Tryin’ to deal ya in and everything. Hell—ya might even be a distraction enough for him that I can take him.” Belle gaped wordlessly. “Can you imagine? Almost 10K a week?”

“I’m sure that’s not what he meant,” Belle mumbled, turning red. “I mean—English and French and Japanese? He probably meant per month.”

“Still—there’s some money to be had here.” Jesse took another sip. “Since they aren’t spending it on Scotch, I mean.” He leaned close to Belle and his voice dropped to a whisper. “Why don’t you flirt with him instead? Since Genji’s gotten gone, I need an edge and he’s definitely taken with you.”

“What?! No!” she hissed back.

Jesse’s brown eyes turned cold. “Do it or walk back.” He shrugged. “It don’t matter which one you choose, neither. I don’t carry dead weight like you around.”

Belle nodded uncertainly and felt all of the blood leave her face as they waited. She shivered again, every sound suddenly magnified in her ears. The slight shiver of fabric as the nearly silent men walked back and forth. The distinct and distant murmuring of the large man who was apparently on the phone and the soft taps as he walked back and forth. The soft whir as the fan overhead.

Jesse kept fiddling with the cards as they waited, and Belle didn’t even want to look at them. She felt faintly nauseous, her empty stomach clenching as she stared at her lap and the doorway to what Hanzo had said was a study. At last he seemed to be satisfied and sat the cards on the table and then went to stacking and sorting the chips. Belle watched with morbid fascination as he even stacked them, twisting them slightly so that all of the tabs and the divots of colors lined up.

After an eternity of near silence, finally Hanzo returned. Belle smiled nervously at him, which made him smirk in return. After another fleeting moment, as his dark eyes met hers, he nodded and looked away. Then he turned back and nodded grimly towards the cowboy.

Jesse grinned at him and looked like a cat that swallowed the canary and was getting some cream for dessert. “We gonna play or what?”

Belle swallowed heavily, staring at them both in confusion and then at the deck of cards. Hanzo cut the deck and Jesse nodded smoothly with a grin. The cards were dealt with lightning speed—far faster than she had ever seen him deal—as he declared sixes wild.

She blinked anxiously and shivered. McCree had a superstition that it was unlucky to declare sixes wild and to always discard them to avoid getting three of them in his hand, so what was the point to declare them wild now? He also tended to avoid keeping a six and a seven in his hand to avoid getting a thirteen.

Hanzo seemed nonplussed, and dropped his ante on the table. The chip hit the table with a clatter that made Belle feel abnormally skittish. Jesse tossed his chip in with a lazy grin and sat back with a grin of satisfaction. Jesse pulled out two cards and nodded as the other man pulled out two cards of his own.

The cards played out and Jesse crowed to get a coveted blue chip and add it to his pile. Hanzo didn’t say anything, only took the deck of cards and nodded as he began shuffling them. The white chips bounced into the middle of the table.

“So what’s wild this time?” Jesse asked.

Hanzo paused and took a lingering second before smirking again and answering, “I think that since your kirenia is so fortunate for you, I will see if queens will be so for me.”

Jesse grinned and nodded as he accepted his cards. Belle shifted restlessly, annoyed she couldn’t even see anything. Hanzo slid a sideways glance at her and carefully folded his cards on the table. Standing, he bowed slightly to Jesse and then turned towards Belle.

“Kirenia, you would be far more at ease in the other room,” he said smoothly. “Permit me to show you.” Jesse squawked nervously but the other man paid him no attention and took her hand. With a firm grip, he led her to the other room and to a comfortable sofa. There were two tall cabinets and a pair of sturdy file cabinets, along with a tall bookcase that held a series of dark colored leather books with gold printing on the spines. A handful of manga magazines—including one with a busty cartoon nurse with pink hair and cat ears in a tight uniform that was pulled almost down to her ridiculous belly to show most of her oversized balloon breasts—was in a messy pile on the coffee table in front of the television. Hanzo let out a stifled groan and Belle grinned nervously to see his sharp features flush.

“I am sorry,” he whispered. “My brother has rather...unrestrained tastes.” He swept the magazines into a pile in his hands and then dumped them into a large folder before putting the folder in a cabinet. Reaching down, he picked up a slender remote and pushed it into her palm.

Belle shuddered to feel his large hands around her hand as he wrapped her fingers around the remote. He stared down at their hands thoughtfully for a second and then said softly, “Stay in here and watch...something. Or....” He looked around and finally nodded towards a bookcase with a shy shrug. “Read. Or something.”

Belle nodded slowly, her eyes going down to the remote. “I can’t—. I’ll watch something.”

Hanzo seemed to relax and smiled at her stiffly. “I would advise....” He cocked his head. “Please stay...consider staying here until...the game is over.” Belle stared at him. “I would—suggest....”

Jesse’s voice called from the other room, “Hey—you coming back?”

Hanzo jumped a little and looked over his shoulder. “Of course—the game. If you need anything, Kirenia, then you can dial 3 on the phone in the corner and the staff can...try to accommodate you.” He smiled bashfully again. “Unfortunately, you will have to speak slowly as some of my staff does not speak English that well.”

Belle nodded in bewilderment and stared at the remote as he left the room, pulling the door closed behind him. Finally, she turned on the television and began flipping channels. Finally she found a public broadcast of a popular musical and settled on the couch. The study must have had thick walls, because she couldn’t hear anything except the soft song of the actress on the screen.

The songs were soothing in their familiar refrain and Belle was almost able to relax when the phone rang, startling her. For a moment she thought about answering it, but instead, she went to the heavy door and knocked on it.

Hanzo answered the door, making her whimper a bit at his sudden appearance. “Yes?” The phone rang again and he glanced at it. “Of course. Thank you, Kirenia.”

He came in and Belle ducked out, sure that whatever it was was important. Jesse scowled at her as she closed the door behind him. The cowboy slapped the cards in his hands—not really shuffling more than taking his impatience and annoyance out on the slick cardboard—and glared at the small pile of chips in front of him. He glared at her as she went back to the seat she had beside him and finally snapped, “So, yer finally comin’ back?”

“H-h-he had a call,” Belle shrugged nervously. She reached for the watered drink and took a shaky sip as the cowboy kept glaring at her. “I...It—.”

“Yer supposed to be distracting him,” he snapped in a hiss. “Not hidin’ like a beat dog in another room.”

Belle went pale and the ice ball in the glass chattered as her hand shook. “But...I—.”

Hanzo came out right then, saving her from a reply as he slid back to his place. He gave them a shallow bow, his face solemn and unsmiling. Without looking at her, he softly said, “Another matter has come up and I must attend to that.” Jesse snorted bitterly, tossing the cards clumsily across the table. They slid across the table in a broken fan shape with a hiss. Hanzo glanced at them and shrugged. “I regret that I cannot continue, and, of course, I concede the game.”

Jesse grunted sourly and finished his drink before standing up. “I s’pose we’ll mosey along then.”

Hanzo gave a thin smile and nodded. “I appreciate your understanding. I return your initial stack of chips,” he pushed a stack of chips towards Jesse, “and give you a bit more for your trouble.” Two more of the high value chips were pushed across the table and Jesse pounced on them and scooped them into his pile. “My staff can change your chips whenever you are ready.”

“We’ll go on,” Jesse grunted, glaring at Belle and the chips. “Unless ya want ta play again sometime?”

Hanzo seemed to consider it for a moment and then nodded. “There is another game in a few weeks.” Jesse nodded with a grin, rolling the chips in his hands and smirking as Hanzo paused to look at Belle. “Perhaps then we can see who is the better.”

Jesse smiled and wrapped an arm around Belle, finally relaxing. “That the game at Palace?”

Hanzo nodded slowly. “It is a private event, but I can instruct the servants to give you an invitation before you depart, if you wish to attend.” Jesse nodded enthusiastically. “Then we can see who is the victor. I regret departing so soon, but it is an emergency. See my staff at your convenience.” He smiled briefly at Belle. “And I wish you a good evening, too, of course.”

With that, the Japanese man left with another quick bow. A suited man came in and collected the chips, carefully counting out the stack that Jesse had and then departing silently, only to return with a carefully written check. The table was cleared and the two open decks of cards were put in their boxes and then tossed into a trashcan. The glasses were taken away to be cleaned and suddenly everyone else was busy elsewhere on the estate and the room was silent and almost empty.

Jesse waited a few moments, staring at the check with his name on it. “Well...it wasn’t a total loss, I guess.” He folded the check and stuck it in his pocket. “And next we’ll hit the Palace.”

Belle frowned a moment, watching as he lumbered to his feet. “Shoguns’ Palace?!” She shook her head. “That’s...high stakes and expensive gambling, isn’t it?”

Jesse nodded with a sly grin. “And we’ll be right there.” He smirked as another suited man came in with a heavy piece of vellum engraved with the particulars. Jesse took it and waved him away, grinning even more as the servant or assistant or whoever he was bowed solemnly and left again. “We’ll hit the big time then!”

Belle stared uncertainly at the card as Jesse tossed it in his hand. “Let’s just go home, Jesse.”

Jesse wouldn’t stop talking on the way home, his words slurring as if all of the alcohol he had to drink was suddenly taking affect all at this exact instant. “Oh, honey, we can’t lose. This is the big time. The Palace is just the place for us to get started and then we’ll live the good life, won’t we? It will be all money and filet and mignon and lobsters and nice stuff from here on in.”

He rolled a bloodshot eye towards Belle as she drove the battered truck back to their apartment. “But ya can’t be lookin’ like a cheap whore, can ya?” The cowboy sighed dramatically, flopping in his seat and tugging at his seatbelt restlessly. “He’ll want to see you there, I suppose and ya can’t look cheap.” He rolled his eyes and sighed. “Good thing he gave a little extra—ya can look nice.”


	3. Chapter 3

Belle muddled through the next week, staring restlessly at the invitation as it sat on their singular table. She took a few extra shifts, trying to get every extra penny should could. Jesse gave her a little bit to buy a dress and some nice hose. A friend of hers loaned her a pair of sandals with sparkling plastic gems and slender, high heels. She scraped together another twenty to buy a tiny purse that she glued some sequins and some plastic gems to so that it matched the dress. With her last three dollars, she bought a couple of thin hoops to dangle from her ears.

Jesse grinned over his plastic cup of vodka as she finally came out of the bathroom. “Well...yer gonna make him notice, I guess.” She nodded listlessly, annoyed at the fact that Jesse had insisted on her getting a really short dress and it seemed to barely cover her bottom. “But yer gonna have ta cover the circles under yer eyes, ain’t ya?”

She shrugged slightly. “There’s a boutique at the casino that sells makeup and does makeovers for free. I was going to head there before we went to the game.”

Jesse snorted, draining the drink. “Ya ain’t gonna do some old school marm makeup or church lady makeup or anything?” Belle shook her head bashfully. “Do something ta make him notice ya. Sparkles and glitter. The Palace has showgirls and all kinds of girls running around so a plain girl is just gonna be a pest.”

Belle tried to laugh and it came out in a strangled choke. “I don’t think I’ll be close to you when the playing starts.” He shot her a dark look. “I mean...not allowed close.”

“You sure that was the shortest dress ya could get?”

“Yes, Jesse,” she sighed.

“Alright, come on then.”

Shoguns’ Palace was beautiful and elegant and seemed to be the setting where dreams came true. Expensive dreams, Belle conceded as the valet snickered as he drove the truck away. Jesse let her go to the boutique and paced around restlessly as the attendant powdered and painted her. Her skin was clear, but was transformed into porcelain perfection with rosy, high cheeks and pink lips and pearly eyelids. Even her cheap earrings seemed to sparkle a bit more as she stared at her reflection in the mirror.

As soon as she got to her feet, Jesse was pulling her towards the casino floor. Belle gaped to see the exotic Japanese decor, the beautiful fountains and, of course, all the people gambling. There was so much jewelry and so much money and chips that it made her head spin. People dropped the colorful chips on tables and in machines so readily and so often that it was making her increasingly nervous in her cheap dress and borrowed shoes.

Jesse kept tugging on her arm, pulling her towards a set of double doors behind a huge bouncer and a thick velvet rope. “Jesse?” she whimpered. “Are you sure?!”

Jesse pulled her up to the muscular man, unafraid at the dark skinned man with the scruffy beard and the fedora over his thick hair and the obvious wire in his ear. A discrete name tag said “Gabriel” on his black tailored suit coat. Jesse ambled up loosely and waved the creamy paper at him. Slowly, Gabriel took the paper and examined it, taking out a small flashlight that highlighted a small number in the corner. Tapping the earpiece, he murmured the number and waited. Apparently he got an affirmative answer, because he stepped aside and undid the velvet rope.

“This way, sir,” he replied with a Latin roll of his tongue. “The cage is over to the left and the tables will be forming in a few minutes. Waitresses will be coming through with drinks every fifteen minutes.”

Jesse nodded and gave Belle’s arm a tug. “Come on, then.”

Gabriel held up a hand and shook his head slowly. “I am sorry, sir, but she is not invited.”

Jesse grunted, pausing briefly to stare at her. He seemed to be thinking hard, weighing odds and probabilities. He scowled fiercely and shoved her away. “Guess you’re no good to me in a real game, huh?”

Hanzo’s voice came through the noise behind them. “That is unnecessary, when I escort the her as my guest.”

“Of course, sir,” Gabriel grinned, his teeth white against the darkness of his skin. “Right this way.”

Hanzo offered his hand solemnly to Belle. “It would be my honor to escort you, if you wish to observe?”

Belle flushed, avoiding looking at the dark scowl on Jesse’s face. “That—that would be great.”

Hanzo nodded, still solemn and thoughtful, as she put her hand over his. “It is my honor.” He nodded at Jesse and then at Gabriel. “If you both are ready?”

At the cowboy’s nod, he led them into the game. As promised, there was an exquisite wooden counter with uniformed employees behind elaborately curved and decorated ironwork grating, ready to change any denomination of money into colorful chips. There were green felt-covered tables with five player seats, a seat for the uniformed dealer and a large, heavy shuffler next to stacks of plastic wrapped boxes of cards. Suited men who looked to be almost clones of Gabriel walked around, looking at all the tables and murmuring into tiny microphones on their chests. The whole room was in shades of cream and gold—rich tan carpet that glistened with golden highlights, cream walls with tan molding at the floor and gilded golden crown molding at the high ceiling where crystal and gold chandeliers shooting light and small rainbows down on the crowds of players. Despite being a completely interior room, there were false windows with heavy gold damask curtains that were softly lit and showed scenes of desert evenings. Discrete fans just at the windows gave soft breezes with soft scents of rosemary and sage and juniper, completing the illusion of being next to a window open to the evening desert.

A horde of women in identical dresses came out of another door, holding trays of sparkling crystal tumblers of ice surrounding bottles of fine alcohol. One of the women came over, her tray holding a tall bottle of tequila. Jesse barely nodded when she offered him a tumbler and then poured him his drink.

She looked up at Hanzo, “Would you like Casa Dragones tequila, sir?”

Hanzo looked down at Belle who only flushed and shook her head. “No, thank you.” He waved the server aside. Leaning slightly, he whispered, “If you wish to have a drink, then you need to tell me.” He glanced around. “There should be appetizers and...snacks in about an hour.”

Belle nodded again, her mouth going dry as Jesse went to a table, sitting next to a suited man with short, silver hair and a thin, pink scar running down his cheek and another few at his brow and lip. “I.... Thank you for...rescuing me.”

Hanzo nodded again. “It would be rude for you to wait there, but we can observe from a distance.”

Belle nodded again, backing away against him slightly as another waitress came through. The players were stacking chips and kissing their good luck charms and so on. Quite a few people were coming in at the last minute and there was now a line at the cages, people fingering rolls of bills to exchange for trays of chips. Jesse’s table filled up, three more players sitting down at the dealer introducing everyone with a pleasant smile.

Hanzo noticed her staring at the table and tapped her hand, making her look up timidly at him. “The one next to him is my brother.” He sighed theatrically. “I could not speak to why he has to dye his hair green, but he is a good man to have on your side.”

Jesse looked strange with nicely suited men on each side of him—one with short hair in a military short cut that was unnaturally uniformly brown and a wiry man in an exotically tailored suit with a shock of ruffled green hair. The cowboy in his spurs and chaps and slouch seemed like a reluctant child at the grown up table. Belle could not put her finger on it, but it seemed that there was a tension at that table that wasn’t anywhere else in the room.

Hanzo cleared his throat and plucked up a crystal goblet of red wine. “Kirenia, here is a glass. Otherwise, everyone will gravitate towards you with new offerings until you are satisfied.” Belle gasped and reached for it, only for them to fumble slightly and the glass tilted and spilled red wine on her dress. “Oh, how unfortunate. Gomen nasai—I am sorry.”

“N-n-no...I am sorry,” Belle muttered sourly, flushing as all of the players at least glanced at her. Jesse rolled his eyes and shook his head bitterly as a waitress disappeared and reappeared with a soft white towel. “It was my fault.”

Hanzo chuckled and waved at Jesse as he threw down his cards bitterly and his brother scooped up the chips. “Let us go to get you repaired.” He patted her hand. “If you wish to speak to Jesse—?”

Belle heard the other man swearing softly and flushed, trying to figure out how to get herself cleaned up. A few of the women tittered as he cursed and collected his cards. Hanzo sighed impatiently and raised his hand. The dealer nodded, smiling at the players and announcing a short break. As if the whole thing was choreographed, two of the security men appeared to watch the table—one of them with a video camera.

Jesse stomped up and scowled at Belle. “What kind of mess did ya make?!”

Hanzo’s eyes flashed darkly, narrowing at the other man’s bluster. “It was my accident. I thought you would appreciate knowing that I was taking her with me to change her dress.”

“And that’s why ya stopped the game?!”

He stiffened, holding Belle’s hand in his elbow. “Of course—we should have guessed you would have preferred not to know.” Without waiting for more cursing, he began walking away. “Come with me, Kirenia, so we can find something for you to wear.”

Belle looked at Jesse as he gaped there with no words coming out, and then let Hanzo lead her away. They disappeared down the staff entrance, dodging servers coming and going. Finally, they turned down another hallway that had a number of smooth doors with discrete suite numbers on them. He paused at one of the anonymous doors and looked down at her.

“Kirenia, I hope that we can find something you want here,” he purred softly. “This is the back door to one of the boutiques and goes directly to the dressing rooms. Duck into one and...and then the attendant can bring you something to wear.”

Belle looked up at him curiously. “That is...very kind of you.”

He smirked at her and opened the doorway. Belle’s breath sucked in to see the pink and cream hallway with carved wooden doors on each side. A thin woman with a tightly scraped up hairdo and a disapproving expression approached them and silently opened up a luxe dressing room with a huge mirror and a plush couch. Belle went in nervously, inexplicably concentrating on the thick carpet she sank into as the door closed behind her.

Quite swiftly, there was a firm knock at the door and she answered it. The attendant wheeled in a rack with six dresses on it. “Here you are, miss. These are in your size, I believe, and we can get started.”

Belle picked up the first dress in wonder. “This...this is a Chanel dress!”

“Yes, ma’am,” she sniffed frostily. “The Chanel line is one of our best sellers.” She pointed to the third dress. “This Versace is also very nice.”

Belle flinched, looking at the tag on the ribbon tied to the hangar. “I...I can’t afford this.”

The attendant smirked with another frosty glare down her nose. “It has already been taken care of. The gentleman has instructed that this be charged to his account.” She shrugged. “If this selection is unacceptable, then I can go back through our stock to find you something else. But he was most insistent that he pay.”

Belle gulped nervously and took the Chanel dress with its elaborate beadwork over the royal blue slipper satin and slid it on. To her surprise, it did fit superbly and hit just above her knees. That was a relief. Then, as she smoothed the dress over her legs, the attendant brought a pair of jeweled sandals from a mouthwateringly famous designer and then a tray of jewelry with dark blue stones.

Hanzo was let in as she slid into the shoes. He picked up a thin gold necklace with a round blue stone surrounded by tiny white ones in a floral pattern. Standing behind Belle, he put it around her neck and fastened it.

He stared at her reflection, his dark almond shaped eyes glittering as they stared into hers. “You are perfect,” he whispered. Glancing over his shoulder, he nodded at the attendant and took a velvet folder with the receipt and signed it. The attendant nodded and disappeared discretely before he turned to her again. “The shade is good for you.”

There was an uncomfortable pause as he looked back at her. Belle felt a shiver go down her spine as he stared at her reflection. Finally, he spoke, “Kirenia—you are going to take my breath away.”

She flushed and stuttered out, “B-b-but.... It’s the dress that’s beautiful.”

He smiled at her. “We should.... I should return.” He shrugged a little shyly as his cheeks flushed pink. “The poker tournament needs to continue.” Belle frowned and looked away again. “I could take you to one of the observation rooms, but...you can not—should not....”

“Should not what?”

He flinched at her direct question, the curious stare in her brown eyes. “Please, consider.... I would not advise returning to the game room.”

She frowned, “But why?”

He took her hand and settled it into his elbow. The attendant let them out and they began going back down the hallways. After a few more minutes, he sighed and slowed down and his voice dropped, “Your Jesse...has come to the attention of...others.”

Belle stared up at him nervously and they stopped in the hallway. “Who? What is going on?”

“Jesse-san has come to the attention of others.” He shrugged slightly. “I.... It would not be good if you were caught in their net.” He shrugged again with a dark flush on his cheeks. “They heard that he was in the area and about the events tonight.” A nervous finger stroked the thinnest tendril of her hair behind her ear. “I had no choice but to cooperate with them in exchange—.”

“Exchange for what?!” Belle whispered hoarsely.

Hanzo sighed and had the grace to glance away. “The others.... Overwatch.”

“Overwatch?!” Belle hissed. “What does Overwatch want with a two-bit gambler like Jesse?”

Hanzo chuckled and nodded. “I would—. They wanted him and suggested that they would be...appreciative of any assistance in finding him.” He gave her a sympathetic look. “You might be considered an accomplice, if something was to happen during the game, so you should not be in the room to begin with. I am certain you should not be near the table if he wins.” He paused, studying her face carefully. “And now Overwatch has become.... It is hard to speak it.”

Belle sighed, trying to figure out what she should say. “I...guess. Thank you.” Nervously, she stroked her hair. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Say nothing,” he whispered. “Just be happy.” Belle smirked shyly. “I can show you to the observation room. During the breaks, then I can bring you out and it would be my honor to escort you.” He smirked down at her. “Not to mention that it would make your Jesse happier, I think, to see that I have not taken you off somewhere.”

Belle blushed, smiling up at him. “You’re a real heartbreaker, aren’t you?”

Hanzo smiled down at her. “Come, Kirenia.”

Belle found herself with a drink and a plate of expensive nibbles in a room adjoining the game room. She had a desk to herself as she sat with the security detail as they watched the tables. On no less than three screens, she had views of Jesse as he played. It was far more interesting to see his hand as well as his opponents’ hands. And every forty-five minutes, like clockwork, Hanzo would appear to escort her out to the floor.

The first break, Jesse had over two hundred dollars more than when he started—at least, she hoped that it was to the good—and seemed to be in good spirits. Again darkly suited men—obviously security from her observations from the screens—went to stand by the tables to watch the chips. Belle flushed as he stared at her.

“What’re ya doing in all that getup?” he smirked as his head rolled loosely on his shoulders in a thick cigar and alcohol soaked way. “That ain’t what ya came in.”

Belle shook her head slightly. “I...I-I.... That is, Hanzo helped me out.” Her face went ruddy as she cringed slightly under his withering gaze. “My dress was—.”

Hanzo gave him a short bow. “I must admit that it was my fault that the garment was ruined. My own awkwardness cause the red wine to pour over the dress and thus it was my duty to find another for her.”

Jesse frowned, but as soon as he spied the necklace, he stopped and blinked in confusion. “Well...I guess.” A wicked grin split his face and he nodded smugly in an unpleasantly knowing way. “I guess yer doing okay, huh?”

Hanzo stiffened as though he were mortally insulted. “Kirenia,” he whispered, “I must see to the other guests. Would you be offended if I were to—?”

“Of course,” Belle swallowed. “I will be fine, Hanzo.” Her voice dropped a shaky note. “Th-thank you.”

He nodded at her with a smile. When he looked up at Jesse, though, his expression turned icy. “I am not going far, of course.”

“Course not,” Jesse agreed with a rakish grin. “We’re doin’ just fine, ain’t we, sweetheart?”

As soon as their host’s back was turned, Jesse leaned towards her and grabbed the pendant. “Real nice little gifts, huh?” His voice hissed like a snake as he twisted it and saw the stones sparkling. “Ya think ya got another meal ticket, don’t ya?”

“What? No?!” She whimpered softly, “What on earth are you saying?”

“I’m thinkin’ yer gonna leave me high and dry, ain’t ya?” The cowboy smirked darkly. “I can see how the wind’s blowing. Ya done found someone all fancy and wealthy and now ya don’t need old Jesse McCree anymore, huh?”

“What?!” Belle whispered.

He grabbed a drink from a passing server and slugged it back, staring at the necklace angrily. “Well, I got somethin’ ta tell ya ‘bout yer new lover.” He smirked in a way that made her blood run cold. “Yer new lover ain’t no hero—.”

A new tenor voice came from behind them, “McCree-san, have you seen my brother?”

They spun to look at Genji in his neatly tailored gray suit and his green hair. He smiled politely at both of them, nodding in a shallow bow. “How nice to meet you at last.”

Belle turned red at his stare. “I...It’s nice to meet you, too.”

He bowed shallowly again. “I am Shimada Genji.” His grin felt gentle and fierce at the same time. “My brother has said many good things about you.” He took her hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “But he did not tell me you were so cute.”

Belle turned even more red. “Ch-charmed...?”

Genji smiled and picked up two flutes of fizzy, peach colored drinks from a nearby tray and gave one to her. “Oh, I can be very charming,” he chuckled. “But of course, we do have to get together some time.”

“Back off,” Jesse growled.

Abruptly, a darkly clothed man came through the room ringing a small brass bell. “Please return to your seats. Your games are about to begin. Please return to your seats.”

Jesse cursed as Genji smirked at Belle. The younger brother surrendered his drink easily, putting the half-empty flute on a tray without his smile faltering. The cowboy took another tumbler and drained it in one breath before going back to his table. The other man sighed and looked at Belle. “I hope that my brother is treating you well?”

“What? Yes, of course.”

“Good,” Genji smiled. “I hope that you have a good evening.” He looked at the man ringing the bell again. “I need to return to my table as well.”

With that, he went back to sit down with a few others. The players rotated among all the tables, and now Genji was seated with the man with short brown hair that Belle remembered seeing with Jesse. She was curious as she looked at the players and their piles of chips, but she had no sooner moved a step than Hanzo was next to her and escorting her back to the security booth.

The security force studiously made every effort to avoid making eye contact with Belle or Hanzo. They kept studying the monitors and murmuring softly into various microphones or earpieces. Belle saw Genji move to another table, his smiling face and tray of chips clear in the monitors. The older man with the short hair didn’t seem to smile or even show much expression at all as he got a pile of chips pushed towards him by the uniformed dealer. Gabriel appeared at the sides of monitors and wandering between the door to the rest of the casino and the private room. It was painfully obvious, watching the dark skinned man, that this was an invitation only event and even the curious bystanders outside were not getting in the room.

Hanzo appeared on the monitor, nodding and speaking solemnly to the guests. Belle could not hear what he said, but from what she saw, she could easily imagine some of the conversations. She had seen similar expressions on Jesse—the eager, determination that the next hand would turn their luck around, the blatant and harrowing disappointment as the piles of chips disappeared, and the desperation and disbelief as they went to speak with the owner, only to have him shake his head and speak in solemn tones. Then they would move away in a shell-shocked stagger that they were half-dead and on their ways back from battle. Then Gabriel would escort them out, nodding mutely at the few that muttered or sobbed at him.

Belle sighed as another gambler in indistinct clothes was led to the door. It was a strange turning point though, a few others took a look at their various piles of chips and the solemn faces of the dealers and very quietly took their trays to the caged counter and left. No one stopped them, of course, and Hanzo took moments to thank them. Some of the gamblers shook Hanzo’s hand and he nodded thoughtfully before leading them off. Even more peculiar was that he handed a few a sealed envelope 

At last there was only one table. Genji, the brown haired man, Jesse and a slender woman who had been sipping the dark liquid from her tumbler non-stop for the past hour. Hanzo approached the table with a cool smile and spoke to the gamblers. They rose as one and Belle could almost hear the voices as they began milling around.

The monitors were filled with the last players stretched and began walking around. She stared at the monitors, expecting him to come in like he had for most of the breaks. Instead, he went to speak to his brother. Genji’s head bounced as he grinned. Hanzo snorted, a smile finally coming to his face and turned away. He had not taken more than a few steps when Genji stumbled and his knee silently slammed into an empty chair. There was a moment of confusion as the tall, slender man seemed to turn in an effortless somersault with the chair and ended up on the floor.

Hanzo and the short haired man and Gabriel rushed in, and Genji smirked and nodded with a sheepish expression. There were silent words and Hanzo disappeared as the other men helped him to the chair, gingerly stretching out his leg. Belle gasped as Hanzo reappeared with an elaborately carved cane and handed it to the younger man. Genji took it with another sheepish grin and more nodding before pushing himself to his feet and hobbling back to the table.

People came and went, clearing and removing the empty tables and chairs, refreshing drinks and setting out a buffet of small appetizers. Belle felt inexplicably cold as Hanzo failed to reappear on his clockwork schedule. Instead, he appeared to speak with the final gamblers and then dismissed the dealer. She stood and offered them all a shallow bow and gave Hanzo the shuffler and a stack of unwrapped, boxed decks.

At last, everyone was content with their fresh drinks and had discarded their many small plates of nibbles—shrimp on toast, caviar in tiny spoons, crostini with bruschetta and chopped basil or pesto and small slices of fresh mozzarella, small rangoons and wontons with a deeply colored sauce that appeared only gray in the monitors, small toothpicks of cubes of what might be steak topped with mushrooms. The players seemed to be jovial and laughing as they ate and drank. Even the brown haired man was smiling as he gobbled a bite and put his empty plate aside.

Belle sighed and absently touched the pendant. It was unsettling that Hanzo was not coming to get her like every other break. And the sudden, syrup thick tension as every man in the booth with her suddenly began concentrating on the monitors which were all on the one table. It was like being in a hall of mirrors, but instead of reflecting her distorted image, they all reflected the other room. She fiddled with the necklace as Genji selected a deck from the pile of boxes and handed it to his brother.

Hanzo used the shuffler a dizzying number of times before offering the woman the cut. She sighed impatiently and took another sip before cutting the deck and sliding it back to him. All of the cameras seemed to zoom in unsteadily and then as one, they stilled.

Belle took in a breath as she felt faintly dizzy. Chips fell into the middle and cards were dealt. She stared at the monitor that was focused on Jesse and it seemed like his pile of chips was smaller than the other player’s piles. She had no way to hear the calls and could only helplessly watch as the cards and chips went in various directions.

Genji won the first hand legitimately with a three of a kind—assuming that there were no wilds. He accepted his winnings with a grin, shifting the cane as he leaned around clumsily to scoop up the chips. Hanzo nodded slowly, his expression never changing as the next hand was dealt.

Belle didn’t realize how much she was playing with the pendant until she saw Hanzo announce another break. Everyone stood up and began stretching again. Hanzo appeared in the room and wiped his face with a handkerchief he pulled out of an inner pocket of his jacket. He gave her a shaky smile as everyone bowed over their monitors and then offered his hand.

“Forgive me,” he murmured as she rose. “I am done soon.”

“It’s...okay,” she sighed. Slowly she shifted from foot to foot, trying to stretch out the stiffness in her muscles. “It looks like things are...intense.”

He nodded, smirking down at her. “It can be done soon.” She nodded uncertainly. “Then we....” Hanzo’s cheeks went red and he stammered, “It is going to be better when it is over.”

Hanzo stared down at her with a strange expression, then looked at her hand on his arm. He knew that it was better if she knew nothing of what was going to happen. He knew it might destroy this fragile and delicate truce that they had, but what choice did he have?

Finally he cleared his throat. “If you do not want to...to watch, then perhaps I can have one of my men escort you to a room.” He shrugged in an offhand way that was far too casual for his serious face. “It would be more comfortable—.”

She frowned at him, looking into his dark eyes with a worried look. “What is going on? What is wrong?”

He looked at her with a sad smile. “Nothing. Of course, nothing is wrong. I was just thinking that you would be more at ease in a room, rather than here.”

She took in a deep breath and shook her head, glancing down at her shoes. “That’s what Jesse says just before he tells me he has lost a lot of money and we have to give something up again.”

He cocked his head. “I am not in danger of missing the Shoguns’ Palace, Kirenia.” She looked at him with a confused expression and he blushed. “I...do not know the word—right now. But the Palace is safe for you.”

Belle nodded slowly, looking up at him. “T-th-thank you.”

“The break is soon over. I must return.” He smiled and pointed at the monitor, where Jesse was fiddling with the deck in restless moves. “Do you wish to stay here?” Genji appeared on the monitors, limping and leaning on his cane as he talked to the woman. “I cannot return after this, so I must ask that you decide now.”

“I’m...I’m fine.”

“I have given orders that you are to be given safety,” he whispered. She nodded, feeling a bit pale at the suddenly desperate tenor in his voice. “No matter what happens.”

With that, he helped her sit down again. She went back to the monitors, staring at their slightly grainy images. Hanzo went back to his place at the table and began the next hand. Jesse had a low pair and the queen of hearts, the white haired man had nothing, the woman had an ace and a pair of fives and Genji had a four, a five and a six. They discarded and the hands didn’t change much, except that the brown haired man then had a high pair.

Quite soon, the woman simply shrugged and tossed a server a white chip and stood up. She took her tray up and, amazingly simply turned it in. Belle watched carefully—she received no money for her piles of chips, just a small sheet of paper. The woman nodded slowly as she examined the paper, smiled at the counter and was escorted out.

Which left the brown haired man, Hanzo, Genji and Jesse at the table.


	4. Chapter 4

There was a burst of murmurs from the security people and a number of the people monitoring the room got up and left. It seemed like there was an electric atmosphere now, like the air of a beach just before a storm rolled in, and she could see that the big man named Gabriel moved closer to the table, almost right at an empty chair.

Hanzo got up and stretched and after several murmurs and hand gestures—still frustratingly silent on the monitors—he got up and stretched and left the room. Belle expected him to come to the security room, but instead he moved and got himself a drink and returned to the table. Again the cards were put into the shuffler several times as the men were engaged in languid discussions about something informal. Or at least, she supposed it was something informal.

After seeing the big shoulders of Gabriel shaking in what appeared to be laughter, she scowled and shifted slightly. They must be talking about women. She had heard Jesse often enough—when he was drunk or with his friends or thought she wasn’t listening—talking about women that he had known, women who had “gotten away” as if they were fish that slipped his clumsy lures, and whatever idiotic things they had tried to get to meet women.

One more hand was dealt and chips fell into the middle. Genji and Jesse lost big on that hand, to the other man’s full house. Belle snorted as Genji made a show of wiping his brow and nodding to his brother. Something felt a bit off about his behavior, but she couldn’t tell if it was a matter of culture differences or if it was something else. Silently, she supposed that he was going to call it a night soon.

Another surprising thing was that Hanzo said something and passed the deck to his left. The older man nodded and dealt the hand to the other men, and Hanzo took a hand. Jesse won the hand and the deck was passed to the left. Genji fluttered the deck of cards from hand to hand and then fanned them out precisely, ruffling them to turn them over and then over again, before shuffling again. Hanzo snapped at him and then moved the machine over to him. He laughed and stuffed the cards in and shuffled them that way a number of times before dealing. He laughed as his brother and the cowboy lost, grinning at the dark haired man who collected the chips.

Jesse took the deck with a lazy smile. He shuffled them by hand with almost as much flair as Genji—only dropping a few low cards across the felt before scooping them up and trying again. He gave a loose limbed sprawl as the cards flew out from his clumsy hands and then bent to pick them up. Then he laughed and, after all the men shouted at him, finally took the shuffler.

As he clumsily divided the deck and put the halves in the shuffler, there was a murmur among everyone. Gabriel shifted to almost right behind Jesse and all of the cameras were zooming in almost embarrassingly close. Belle flushed to see the small lump where he had been missing a button on one screen.

Then he dealt with lightning speed.

Everyone in the booth was muttering now, cameras swinging wildly and zooming in. She could not even see anyone else in the screens now—it was all Jesse. One of the suited men in the room with her waited a long moment and then whispered into his microphone.

That seemed to be the signal for the storm to break.

The brown haired man and Gabriel both stood up, grabbing Jesse. The cowboy shrugged in a surprisingly deft step for someone who was obviously drunk and so large. Jesse took a step backwards and suddenly there was a really, really large pistol in his hand.

There were only a few things that Jesse McCree ever truly prized—his beat up truck and his huge pistol. It was by any measure almost a hand cannon and he loved it more than most men love their wives. Every few days on some kind of schedule, he would lock himself away and clean it and oil it and whatever it was that thing needed to have done to it.

He was also deadly accurate with it.

The dark shape of Gabriel and the pale brown-haired man froze in surprise. The monitors panned out to show the whole room now. There was a shuffle as the lone cage monitor spilled a number of trays of chips and slammed the cash drawers shut. Hanzo rose slowly, his hands up and a serious look on his stone-cold sober face. Genji said something, clumsily rising with the cane in his hand and staggering to his feet.

Jesse laughed, stumbling backwards and waving the Peacekeeper at them all.

The room erupted into chaos and most of the men raced out. One of them ran out so quickly that his headset was unplugged and it cracked to the floor. Suddenly, out of that workstation, the words in the room came flowing out like poisonous water.

Jesse was talking. “—And all y’all can just sit back down.”

Gabriel snapped, “You’ve got nowhere to hide, nino.”

The cowboy laughed, “Yer not gonna go anywhere.”

Hanzo’s even tenor came through into the room. “You have nowhere you can go.” Jesse scowled at him, the Peacekeeper weaving to him now. “The cards hidden in your sleeve will be proof enough that no one will ever let you back into a game and we have video proof—.”

The gun suddenly wavered. “Ya cheater!”

“Hardly,” Hanzo snorted.

Jesse slid closer to the limping Genji. “I’ll just have yer brother escort me outta here.”

“And what about the woman?” Genji growled, weaving against the cane and wobbling as he troubled to stand. “Are you truly so base that you would abandon her?”

“I am gonna get outta here first,” Jesse snarled back. “And yer gonna help me.”

There was a scrape of steel and suddenly a loud shout. A lightning flash went up and there was a clatter. The dark haired man and Gabriel let out a harsh, guttural curse. Suddenly, after a commotion, Jesse was in electric cuffs. Genji had a long sword at his throat and Gabriel had the Peacekeeper pointed at him.

The brown haired man’s voice was harsh as he finally spoke, “Jesse McCree, you are coming with us.”

He let out a guttural laugh. “What for?”

The older man pulled a small wallet out of his pocket and flashed a badge and card. “I am taking you into the custody of Overwatch—.”

The cowboy snarled and tossed his head. “I knew ya looked familiar. Yer that shit-for-brains commander—or his twin brother. Fuckin’ hell, if ya ain’t. I ain’t gonna sell out ta Overwatch!” Jesse began cursing violently. “Besides, ya don’t care about a lone gambler. That ain’t Overwatch’s fucking jurisdiction.” Jesse smirked and snarled, “And gamblin’ is legal here in Nevada so ya don’t got nothin’.”

Gabriel laughed. “Maybe not, but you—.”

Jesse staggered to his feet, cursing, only to be pushed down as the security men came bursting in. More men kept him on his knees, locked the Peacekeeper in a huge metal suitcase, and they began saluting the white haired man as he led the party out of the room. There was a lot of shuffling and a few chairs were overturned as Jesse lurched and fought them.

Hanzo and Genji sighed, waving to the woman who clattered out of the room as she muttered and cursed. They looked around the room, staring at the clutter and chaos and mess that had been left behind.

Genji spoke first. “Anija, what the hell?”

“Their commander—Morrison—saved our father. You know that, Genji.” Hanzo picked up a chair and put it back in place. “It was a debt that we owed him—rather, that I owed him. Since you...ahh...left.”

Genji nodded and picked up a chip. Staring at it and very steady on his feet, he muttered, “I am not convinced.” He shrugged fluidly. “Still...with McCree on ice, we can move forward.”

“I suppose.” Hanzo shrugged. “As long as you keep your head bowed so that the elders do not realize that you are as reckless as ever.”

“No one’s gonna trace me here—none of the elders know or care about Shogun’s Palace as long as it’s profitable. It’s why I’m here, rather than—.”

Suddenly, he switched to rapid Japanese as a timid cleaner came in and began sweeping. Another few people came in, one wheeling a large and ugly plastic can on wheels to begin collecting the trash. Finally, he tossed the plastic chip on the table and nodded towards the cash drawers.

Hanzo nodded in return. Finally, he went with his brother and collected the two cash drawers. A large, suited man came in to pick up the chips and collect them in plastic trays. Hanzo spoke—again in frustrating Japanese that Belle could not understand—and Genji took the cashboxes away. Then the large man left.

Belle was shaking as Hanzo came in.

“Kirenia,” he whispered to her, a smile coming over his face. “You are here.”

She stalked up him, her hands shaking wildly. Tears filled her eyes as she came closer. “How could you do this?!” Her hands were in tight fists and she punched his expensively covered shoulder. “Now what am I supposed to do?!”

“Do?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Jesse...he wasn’t—. Dammit.” Tears filled her eyes again. “What am I to do?” She glared up at the man as she wiped her tears eyes and the makeup smeared on her hand. “I...I don’t have anything left. Nowhere and nothing and I don’t have any way to even get back to the apartment.”

Hanzo stared down at her, trying to figure out what to do next. She likely had a right and reason to be angry. He held up his hands wearily, dodging her punch. “Kirenia...please—just hear me for a moment.”

Belle’s hand swiped at her face, and she flinched at the sooty stains on her palm. She was about to wipe her hand on her dress, until she looked down at it. This was a designer dress and she scowled at her dirty palm. Hanzo’s wrinkled handkerchief appeared and he gently pressed it into her palm.

“Kirenia—please. I would appreciate a moment of your time.” She gave him a watery nod. “I am sure you would be more comforted somewhere other than a security booth.”

She nodded in a jerky motion. This was truly a depressing room—especially since all the screens were going dark and the lit up screens only showed cleaners picking up the room. And it felt like she had been here for hours, too.

Hanzo offered her his bent arm and smiled when she took it. “If you wish, we will depart.” She stretched and nodded again. “If you would feel better, then we could stop so that you can...ahh....” He grinned sheepishly and squirmed. Gesturing towards his face, he shrugged, “We must cross the gaming area, but if you wish to freshen up...?”

Belle sighed in watery relief and nodded. “That would be great.”

He led her slowly through a maze of back hallways to a large door with a discrete golden panel on it with a series of blocky kanji characters and then a cursive ‘Ladies’ etched on it. There was a large fogged glass piece in the heavy wooden door that had a beautiful stained glass picture of a delicate geisha looking into a hand mirror.

“If you need anything, there is a phone in the front area that will ring the front desk. If you ask them, they can immediately patch you through to my phone.”

Belle stared at the frosted glass, in awe of the obvious wealth that even the damn bathroom door showed. The men’s bathroom door was just as elaborate with a fierce samurai donning his mask under his kabuto helmet on the frosted glass.

A small woman with Asian features and straight dark hair in a huge pair of earphones and her eyes on a tiny handheld video game bounced out of the ladies’ bathroom. She glanced up, a pink bubblegum bubble growing out of her mouth as she tucked her game into her loose pink jacket. She had on a pink and blue and white bodysuit on and slid past them with a youthful bounce to her step.

Belle stared at her, unsettled at the distinct feeling that she should know the other woman, but unable to place her. Perhaps she had seen a picture of her somewhere, but she couldn’t remember. Still, she went into the bathroom, hoping she didn’t look as bad as she felt.

The bathroom was larger than than her whole apartment. Even this front room with its wide counter under the spotless mirror and the grouping of comfortable chairs around a delicate wrought iron table holding a phone was larger than her whole place. Everywhere she looked she saw pink marble and elaborate tile work.

She went to the second room with its wide stalls and many sinks. The mirror showed that her eyes were smudgy and she had—at some point—nibbled her lipstick off. It was not the artful and glamorous smudges featured on runways or magazines either. It was a slightly shell-shocked look around red-dimmed eyes that seemed to be out of a horror movie.

Belle yanked out some of the paper towels, wet them, and washed off the makeup. So much for her shot at looking expensively beautiful. Maybe Hanzo would give her a ride back to that skanky apartment. Lord only knew what time it was and she had a shift as a waitress in the morning—if she wasn’t too late already.

She stared down at the grubby paper towels with a sudden twinge of regret. So much for the lovely face that she had been so pleased with. And then a sudden twist of magic in the form of a dress more expensive than any she had ever seen outside of a magazine.

It was hard to wash it all away and to come back to the dirty reality where she was a waitress in a short black skirt and a white knit shirt with the logo sewn into the shoulder and a heavy canvas skirt that was even heavier with extra silverware, napkins and her vast collection of cheap pens. Even harder was the realization that she was going to be back to being a faceless nobody that someone like Hanzo would never even notice as she walked past.

So why was she even thinking about him like that?

Undoubtedly, he would want the necklace back. Unless, of course, it was some kind of fake. It was so hard to tell sometimes. Her coworker had been given a beautiful ring and the whole diner had gushed about it—a huge, sparkling stone in a brilliant setting. Then she had gone to a shopping mall and a jeweler had sadly informed her that it was a manufactured sapphire in a sterling ring that was worth about 100, rather than the thousands she had been told.

She stared at the necklace in he mirror. It wasn’t impossible that it was a piece of costume jewelry. Who just randomly bought a virtual stranger a necklace of real gold with real jewels? She tilted it to watch it sparkle in her reflection and tiny rainbows crackled in the reflection. How was she to tell? What did people see that she didn’t to tell what was real and what was fake?

A woman in little more that stickers of sequins and jewels and a trailing group of feathers dripping over her hips sauntered in, tugging a satin robe over her body. Without looking at Belle, she went to sit down and kick off her sky high heels. Belle stared at her, her cheeks red, as if she was staring at a wildly exotic bird fluttering onto a perch. The dancer or whatever she was, was beautiful in a fiery way that seemed to exude blatant sexuality in a way Belle could only dream about.

With an embarrassed nod, Belle tossed the rubbish away and slid out the heavy wooden door. The casino was alive with sound and people and lights that blinked and flashed in exciting and frantic ways. A group of girls all in what appeared to be short school uniforms walked past with chips in their hands. A pair of handsome men in suits were counting bills as they smiled and ogled some dancers in short kimonos. A person she could not see apparently had some kind of good luck if the wildly flashing lights and sudden sirens and then shrieking was any indication.

Belle sighed, wishing she had more than a few dollars in her purse. Shoguns’ Palace was a long way from home and the taxis and public transports wouldn’t be cheap. Still, it was worth a shot to see if maybe she could grab a ride somewhere.

“Going somewhere?” a light voice asked behind her.

She whirled and saw Genji standing there. His cane was across his shoulders like another man might carry a fishing rod to his favorite spot and Belle could not believe he was the man who had wobbled and limped so convincingly on the security monitors.

Hanzo’s voice cut through the noise behind her. “I have this, Genji.” His steps were imperceptible as he came up. “She is my guest—as you know. You do not need to interrupt, brother.”

Genji’s dark brows were strange against the shock of his ruffled green hair and they rose in surprise. “Oh, really?”

“Yes,” he replied. “Please see to our other guests as I take care of her.”

Belle gasped to see the younger man give her a sloppy, two fingered salute and a wink and then turn on his heel. Using the cane with flair and a twirl, he begs to walk towards another group of guests without a second thought. She turned to look at Hanzo, frowning at his amused smirk.

“If you would—.” He coughed slightly and tried again. “We should speak in private.”

Belle nodded slowly and her put her hand on his arm, walking her through the crowded floor as if he was escorting a celebrity. Women’s eyes stared at her as she walked, whispers following like a tide. Men’s eyes followed them, too—a range of jealousy or grudging respect or blatant curiosity. All of the eyes she met would start to smile or frown, then would look up to the solemn man beside her and then suddenly they would find a card or chip or light or fountain or even a potted plant interesting.

Hanzo took her through the machines and into a quiet hallway to an office. It was surprisingly plain—no elaborate gold or exotic woods or lush carpets or works of art. There was a single bookcase behind a rectangular desk that looked like it came out of a mass manufactured catalog with a worn chair behind it. There was a low couch with messy and worn cushions piled at one end. A few chairs in a mix of styles and colors were across the desk. The only thing that even suggested it was an active office rather than a junk room was a small computer on the desk with the Shoguns’ Palace logo floating on a black background.

She took a cautious seat in the first chair. It squalled like an infant and she giggled at the strange sound. Surrounded by such luxury and obvious wealth, such a broken down chair that squealed so seemed like an anachronism. Hanzo sat down across from her, sliding into his own chair with an answering screech.

“I...can not guess what your situation has been,” Hanzo whispered softly. “I do know that you have been drug into this...situation by Jesse McCree.” Belle nodded slowly at his low and earnest tone. “His return is not something you should count on now that Overwatch has apprehended him.”

He cleared his throat and looked at the file on his computer. “My sources have informed me that he has spent time at your ancestor’s home.” 

“My what?!” Belle gasped.

“My records show you at one time had a tract of land near here,” he replied, glancing at her. “Is that incorrect?”

Belle shook her head, feeling a lock of her hair fall down and hit her neck. “My mother and father had a ranch, but was hardly ‘ancestral’.” She shrugged. “My Aunt Lynn—my Great Aunt Lynn—left it to my father after she supposedly won it in a bet.

“But what does it matter now? Jesse and my mom were...something and when she died he was like my guardian. He sold it ages ago. We were supposed to live on the sale price for a while but he honestly lost most of it gambling—.”

Hanzo shook his head. “That is what he told you. I did an investigation of my own and he is listed as the sole owner of the property after a short sale through a proxy.” He seemed sympathetic as he looked at her. “And since then it has been claimed by...others.”

“But Jesse owned it all this time?!”

“I can see that you are shocked,” he said, glancing at her and the screen. “But since he has departed with you in...dire straights, I would be honored if you would consider being my...guest for the time being.”

Belle gaped at him, her head aching. What on earth was happening that Jesse had owned the land all this time? What had happened to the horses? The cattle? The lazy dog that occasionally deigned to bark at a car? She collapsed in the chair, her nerves gone and her body aching.

Hanzo leaned forward with another squeal of his chair. “Kirenia, permit me to take you somewhere that you can rest.” He sighed as she managed to look up at him. “It can not be good to try to make decisions at this point.”

She nodded, ready for some kind of guidance, for sleep. In her heart of hearts, she was ready for someone to simply take charge and make the decisions for a while. Hanzo looked at her thoughtfully for a moment and then smiled at her. With almost matching squeals, he rose and then helped her to her feet. It had been too long, too many hours of worry and anxiety and she simply fell into step beside him.

He led her to an elevator—a private elevator if the freshness and relative newness of the fittings—and waved a card from his pocket. The elevator dinged and then began rising. There was no piped in music or stops for drunken patrons, only them as they went up and up.

When the last ding sounded, Belle managed to look up long enough to see that the digital screen showing the letters “PH” rather than a floor number. Her head spun again as he gently led her out of the elevator.

The penthouse was as exquisite as any ever had been. The first room had a small, shallow pond of koi with a narrow bamboo bridge over it and a wide, circular skylight above it to form an atrium. Two black benches were against the walls, along with a series of small cubbies that held an assortment of wide men’s shoes or wide, flat slippers.

Hanzo went to one of the cubbies and pulled off his shiny shoes and put on one of the pairs of slippers. Belle wobbled up to him, staring at the cream colored slippers that fit him perfectly. He looked at her and her tall shoes and gestures towards a bench.

“Please sit down and I can help you with yours.” She nodded and he unfastened the fiddly little buckles of the sapphire shoes. As soon as he slid them off, he handed them to her and then picked her up in his arms as though it was the most normal thing in the world for him to carry her through the penthouse.

There were a few suited men in the penthouse, wandering through blandly just as obviously keep an eye on the place and its inhabitants as they were obviously armed. As soon as Hanzo came through, though, they seemed to melt away like specters with respectful bows. To her surprise, Hanzo walked through the penthouse to an exquisite bedroom and laid her down. Belle tensed a little, expecting some kind of hot and heavy move and to be overwhelmed, but instead, he simply smiled at her and then left her alone in the room.

She managed to shimmy out of the exquisite dress and draped it over the back of a chair as she slid everything else off. There was a soft robe on the door to the adjoining bathroom and she chose a soft cucumber melon shampoo and body wash from the basket on counter beside the huge sink. She spun the taps and smiled at the rush of scalding hot water and the billowing steam.

In the end, she was glad to indulge in a shower far longer and far hotter than she had been able to have for months. She washed her hair three times—going back out to rummage in the basket of toiletries for different bottles—and then found some lotion that she had never been able to afford. Feeling like a pampered kitten, she curled up in the bed with a huge towel around her hair.

A knock sounded at the door and Belle whimpered as she stumbled out and wrapped the robe around herself again. Hanzo stood there with a uniformed man pushing a cart. As soon as he saw her, he flushed. “Please excuse the interruption, Kirenia,” he murmured. Waving the other man away, he gestured at the covered plates and the cobalt glass bottle of spring water in a champagne bucket. “I thought that since you were not at the buffet at the tournament, you might be hungry.”

Belle glanced at the cart and the bottle of water. Even the water was an expensive brand name in a glass bottle rather than a glass or even a carafe from the tap. Nodding, she stepped back to let Hanzo wheel the cart in. With a swish of his hands, he revealed a collection of small scarlet and black plates with a variety of treats—an crisp spring roll, a small bowl of wonton soup, a pair of rice balls, a small curved dish with a nest of noodles in a salty-sweet sauce and sprinkled with chopped cilantro and dark sesame seeds, a pair of crisp crab rangoons with a tiny cup of bright red sauce. Everything steamed and seemed to be bursting with flavor.

“Eat what you wish,” Hanzo bowed shallowly. “If there is something you would prefer, then the phone can reach the front desk and you can order most anything you wish.” He laughed shortly and flushed. “The bar can make you most anything, but they ring me first to authorize the charges. Otherwise, you need just to instruct them what you need and the staff can bring it to you.”

Belle swallowed heavily. “Th-th-thank you.” Her eyes drifted over the food again. “I...I am hungry.”

Unexpectedly, she yawned and he laughed wryly. “You can eat well and then rest.”

“But how can I repay you?” she asked, her fingers going to graze the heavy stainless steel flatware wrapped in its heavy napkin. “For all this.”

“Eat and rest,” he repeated. “There is no need to worry about repayment.”

“Oh,” she muttered.

He bowed and left her again in the solitary splendor of the bedroom with the cart of food and the water. She ate and drank her fill, surprised that the small plates filled her completely. The water was fresh and cold and had just enough bubbles that she felt them refreshing her throat. Then she put the robe aside and crept back into the bed.


	5. Chapter 5

The morning came swiftly, filling the bedroom with light. Belle could scarcely believe it when she awoke and found it was nearly lunchtime. Scrambling up, the first thing she saw was the brilliant blue dress hanging on a hanger and then a set of designer jeans and a purple blouse in a slick blue bag with the gold logo printed on it. Another cream and pink striped bag with another expensive logo had several silken underthings in it. A small cream envelope with her name on it—her real name—sat propped on the bags.

She shimmied into the more casual clothes, marveling that they fit her so closely. The envelope held a gift card and a short note:

“Kirenia—I wanted to thank you for staying with me and to tell you that you were not abandoned entirely. Genji assured me that these clothes would fit you and that you would not mind if he contacted your place of employment and explained that you needed some time to recover from a sickness. It seemed a reasonable way to ensure you would get to rest after your shocking night, and I wanted you to know you were not to be rushed.

“As always, you can reach me through the front desk if I am not in the penthouse. I expect to be free to eat dinner with you so that we may speak under better circumstances. There is much I want to explain.

“With deepest respect, Hanzo.”

Belle called and, sure enough, they had been notified she had not felt well last night. Another room service cart appeared at the door at noon, offering her a crisp and bright salad and toasted fresh-made pita with a cup of fresh hummus. She couldn’t think what to do next, except to wait. When she called the front desk, they had nothing to say except to invite her down to the boutiques.

That seemed a rather silly—not to mention unnecessarily expensive—waste of her time. But there was little else to do. Only two of the bodyguards were lurking in the penthouse, nodding respectfully as she went to the main sitting areas and leaving the room to watch television for a while after showing her the numerous remotes. Then, as she left, they cleaned up after her—resetting the pillows and turning off all of the electronics.

The day aged slowly, making her feel slow and useless. It was a relief to have the time to simply rest, to sleep, but after being busy for so long it was strange and alien as well. What on earth was she supposed to do all this time? Clearly Hanzo expected her to spend some time in the boutiques, but...then what?

Finally she called down to the front desk. “Could I please speak to a manager?”

“The manager?” The woman at the desk seemed startled and her voice squeaked. “Is there something wrong in the penthouse? Is there anything that we can do?” Belle heard rustling of paper and a few worried voices in hushed tones. “Of course, madam—please let us know what we can do to make your stay a pleasure.”

“N-n-no—it’s nothing like that.” Belle flushed even though she was the only one in the room. “I...that is—I was—.”

“Was it the clothes? If they are not the correct size or the correct style, then we would be happy to send up a new selection of clothes or to have one of our personal shoppers assist you.”

“No...please, they clothes are fine,” Belle whispered, her cheeks turning red and hot. “They are wonderful.”

“Oh, good,” the lady sighed. “I picked them out. Of course, we will do anything we can to make you comfortable. How can I assist you?”

“Could you please...please send me a...a job application?” Belle turned purple with embarrassment. “Please?”

There was a long pause and then a sigh. “Of course, we will do anything you wish, madam. Shall I send someone up with it?”

“Yes, thank you.” Belle shuddered, looking around at the rooms. “That would be great.”

Ten minutes later, Belle had the application in her hand, along with a folder of information about Shoguns’ Palace and the open positions. She read them with interest, hoping that one would be a fit for her. Waitresses were needed in two of the restaurants, but one required the ability to speak Japanese and the other was looking for someone with several years of experience. A manager was needed in one of the boutiques, but she had no experience with the designers or fittings or sewing on the industrial machine that the ad named. There was a need for programmers and secretaries, but the programs mentioned were foreign to her.

At least the Shoguns’ Palace always needed maids and cleaners. It didn’t pay nearly as much as any of the other positions, but it would be work. And she would desperately need it without Jesse bringing in the small amount he did. So she filled out the paperwork, listing the her experience—such as it was—and giving her few references.

It had to be enough. And if she never asked, she’d never get it, right?

She fingered the pages lightly, staring at them and then at the penthouse. The whole suite was lush and luxurious and expensively furnished. Sitting around in her designer clothes and having just about anything she wanted brought up to her was a far cry from cleaning and taking care of the rooms. She could just imagine that there was some dingy hole somewhere that the cleaners existed. Most everywhere did—a secret and hidden place that the lesser staff occupied until it was time to come out and do the necessary cleaning and repairs. Surely this would be no different.

Finally she decided it was as good as she could make it. They would either hire or or not. But in some small way, she could begin to pay back what she owed him. She glanced at the clothes she was wearing, the large penthouse, the cart with the exquisite meals. How much she owed him, how much she could pay back, was anyone’s guess—but she had to try, didn’t she?

Belle asked for a manager again and asked for someone to take her paperwork. Surely it would not take long—and they could tell her soon enough whether or not she could work here. It made her nervous, waiting for the neatly uniformed man to appear at the doorway again. Why was it that elevators and things like that took forever when she only wanted them to hurry?

In a few moments, the door opened and Hanzo came in, holding a briefcase and talking on the phone and and scowling. He growled bitterly into the phone, glowering at her as he laid the briefcase on a table.

His eyes finally snapped to hers, coal dark into frightened brown, and he snapped his fingers imperiously and pointed to her chair. She sank into it as he snarled into the phone angrily. With a sudden curse, he cut off the call and then stared at her.

“What is the meaning of this outrageous behavior?” he snarled. “What were you thinking?”

“What?” Belle squeaked.

“The...the sheer...! Kuso!” He spat out a few more curses. “I have provided you somewhere safe, kimono and everything I could think of.” He pointed an accusing finger at her. “And you have the nerve to do that and you—.”

“What?!” Belle screamed.

“You had to call down for...that paperwork,” he snarled. “As if I had not given you the run of the penthouse and as if I had not given you authority to charge anything to the room!” His face was flushed angry. “Why would you shame me by this?”

“Shame you?!” Belle cried out in confusion. “What have I done to shame you?”

“It is a shame and a dishonor to send down for the paperwork as if I had not provided for you.” He crossed his arms proudly. “Or that I could not provide for you.”

“What? Provide for me?!” Belle growled. “Who do you think I am?”

“You are—.” He snarled. “I was.... I was—.” He sputtered angrily. “I want you to—.”

He growled down at her. Belle stared up at him and then down at the papers in her hand with a dark flush over her cheeks. “I don’t have any money—you know that. But I thought maybe I could work here as a maid or something and maybe...begin to repay what you’ve already spent on me.”

She stared down at the paperwork. As her cheeks heated up, her voice became quieter and quieter. “I’m sorry if you thought it was...shameful. I didn’t know.” She shrugged idly. “I didn’t think it would hurt and I thought—maybe....”

Hanzo stared down at her. She was flushing so prettily, sitting with the papers in her lap. Who would have thought she was going to try to pay him back? The clothes she was wearing now totaled more than she could make here in a week. The dress and shoes had been designer creations exclusive to his boutique in his casino—all so that he could charge outrageously for them. She would likely never have enough money for all that. But when was the last time someone had offered to repay him without him bringing in his men or his guns or violence to force it?

“The money is...nothing,” he muttered sourly. The discomfort of having misread the situation was new to him. “It was...my treat, as I think you foreigners say.”

Her face went white as she looked up at him. “But that was hundreds or thousands.”

He shrugged. “I am not...inconvenienced by it. I can afford it.”

She stared at him as if he had turned purple. “It’s...still thousands.” Her cheeks turned red. “It’s not going to be immediately, but I can pay you back for it. Particularly if you can take the necklace back.” She flushed. “I don’t guess it was costume jewelry.”

He smirked down at her. “If it was, then I have been cheated by the best gem expert in Nevada.” His smirk turned dark and deadly. “I would be...most disappointed and would have to...show that I should not be so disappointed.”

Belle stared up at him strangely. “I would...guess so.” Then she shrugged. “But that doesn’t help right now.” Finally she sighed, “So what do you want, then?”

Hanzo felt a breath of...strange relief. He sat down across from her with a grin. “I would...want for us.... I mean, I to get to know you.”

“But...I am....” Belle shrugged lamely. “I’m just a no one.”

“You are...unique, Kirenia,” he smiled. “I want to know more.”

“More?” she whispered.

“More about you. More about how good you could be,” he purred, reaching out for her hand, “for me.”

Belle turned red—again—and gave him a shy smile. “I...I would like that.”

“Then it should be,” he smiled in return, slowly taking her hand.

“But what about Jesse?” she blurted out.

“He is...in the hands of Overwatch,” Hanzo whispered. “I suppose that they are going to charge him....” He shrugged innocently. “I cannot say.” Belle was going to say something, but he glanced at his heavy, gold wristwatch. “If you agree, then I have reservations downstairs for dinner.”

“What?”

“Reservations,” he repeated. “The nicer restaurants have reservations months in advance. Sometimes—New Year’s Day and so on—it is more than six months in advance.” He smiled at her confusion, “But I have a table at 6:30 at Sakura for us.”

Belle stared up at him and nodded. “I...I guess so.”

“Good,” he nodded. “I would appreciate getting out of this strange suit. Why Western men bind up in such things, I can never guess.”

Belle giggled. “O-o-o-okay. I guess I’ll put on the blue dress again.”

Hanzo nodded, “Then, we can go at 6:00.”

Belle darted to her room and got dressed in the expensive outfit. The shoes were a joy to put on. The necklace gave her a little sparkle, just matching the beaded dress. Unfortunately, there was little chance of replicating the elaborate makeup from the boutique or the curled hairstyle without curlers or irons. So, a pretty braid would do.

Carrying her high-heeled shoes with her, she stepped back into the sitting area. Hanzo appeared only a moment after she did, wearing what could only be described as a formal kimono. She half expected him to be wearing a sword and carrying a fan, rather than wearing a discrete gold watch and carrying a discrete phone.

He smiled, switching off the phone, as he saw her. “I am honored to be your escort tonight.”

Belle smiled at him and slid on her shoes. He stared at them and shuffled forward. “If I had thought ahead, I would have gotten you shoes with easier fastenings.” He pointed his foot and she saw the traditional geta sandals on his feet. “Sakura is a traditional place and you will need to take off your shoes.”

“Traditional,” Belle repeated uncertainly.

“It should be very good,” Hanzo nodded as he led her to the exclusive elevator. “We are are going to experience cha-kaiseki—a dinner in the context of our tea ceremony. First, there is a bowl of rice, soup in covered bowls and then mukozuke which is an open bowl with seasonal sashimi or tuna. We are to be served sake in a proper fashion.

“Next is the nimono. This season’s dish is fresh shrimp dumplings. After this is a tray of fresh salmon and asparagus—called yakimono. We are be given more rice and then seasonal courses. Today it will be fresh sea bass and pickled mountain vegetables, served with pickled cucumber and daikon radish, which is called ‘takuan’.

“Different from in Japan, they will give us clean cloths to wipe and reuse the bowls and then we take some takuan and then a small bag to store anything inedible like stems or the like. We will be served berries and small cubes of cake for dessert. After that, we much count to three together and then drop our chopsticks to signal that we are done eating. Then, we must reassure the cook that the meal was good. And then we will be treated to a tea ceremony in the atrium. “

“It sounds complicated,” Belle frowned.

Hanzo laughed softly as the elevator doors opened. “It will be confusing the first time, and then it should be better each time you do it. We will have a brief walk through the atrium to where we are served tea in the traditional ceremony. The hostess can assist you, and, of course, I can help you, too.”

Belle was surprised when she got there to be greeted by a woman in a formal kimono and an elaborate hairdo with fancy combs and decorations. The hostess bowed low, smiling and greeting them in Japanese. Hanzo bowed and helped her bow as well, returning the greeting. Belle could only flush nervously as they were led to a place to remove their shoes to slide on sandals and then to a low table.

She followed whatever Hanzo did, copying his every move. His movements were precise and slow and thoughtful, as though he was praying over every gesture. Unfortunately, she seemed to spill more than she managed to eat. But it was beautiful to see every dish in its exquisite presentation. The last dish was shaped like a fan with a design in the bottom illustrating a pair of carp and held three small cubes of cake and sugared berries with a sprig of mint on the top. Sure enough, after they ate, they dropped their chopsticks and the hostess came back out, chirping in broken English that she was sorry that the food was not good. They both politely declared the food delicious. The hostess bowed again and then led them through a small, starlit atrium. Against the far edge of the atrium, there was a series of low tables. Some of the tables had hostesses and guests already, bowing over the small bowl of tea and instruments.

Belle was comforted by the big man as they knelt at the table and the hostess set out the bamboo instruments and the lacquered bowl. Another woman came by with an iron kettle of hot water, wishing them a good evening. Suddenly, she was very glad that there were screens between each table because there seemed to be thousands of years of culture and understanding weighing down on her shoulders.

The hostess smiled and used a clean cloth to wipe down the spotless white bowl that was to be their cup. With a slow, steady hand, she dipped what appeared to be a slender L shaped piece of bamboo into a cardboard cylinder until she had a small amount of bright green powder in the crook. Carefully pouring the powder into the bowl, she added hot water from the kettle and then used a bamboo whisk to stir it. Folding a clean piece of cloth under the bowl, she smiled and handed it to Hanzo with a bow.

He bowed as he accepted it, murmuring to her a soft thanks and took a sip. Then he turned the bowl and handed it to Belle.

“Please excuse me for going before you,” he smirked.

Belle stared up at him in confusion, sure that there was some ritual words that she was supposed to say in return, but completely unsure what they were. “Uhh...ummm.... That’s okay.” Taking the bowl, she took a sip of the frothy, emerald mixture. The first thing she could taste was a burst of fresh tea and an aftertaste of jasmine. The flavor was light and bitter, as though she could taste the soil of the tea plantation. For a moment, she pictured a green forest filled with spiky leaves in a wide palette of greens with bushes and vines and dipping branches. Then there was a lingering tingle on her tongue like she had tasted the sparkle of starlight.

The hostess took the empty bowl, bowing towards them both. Hanzo bowed in return and Belle following him hastily. In accented English, she said, “Thank you for coming, honored guests.”

“Arigato gozaimashita,” Hanzo replied. “We thank you for your time and hospitality.”

“Please come again to the Sakura,” she smiled again, bowing.

“Thank you,” Belle whispered with a returning bow.

Hanzo rose to his feet and helped Belle up. A few of the staff nodded towards him as they hurried past. They walked back towards the door as their hostess went to a new table and another two parties were led to the atrium where they were treated to the tea. At last they were at the entrance.

Belle couldn’t begin to fathom how much it cost to have a hostess dedicated to them, the tea and exotic ingredients. “Do I even want to know how much—?”

He shook his head a little. “It is a bit of luxury from home,” he shrugged.

“From home?”

“My home in Japan.” Hanzo smirked at her, nodding as another hostess passed them with a hurried bow. “It is a taste of what I left behind for when I get homesick.”

She glanced up at him, leaning lightly against his strong arm. “It must be hard to be so far from home, I guess.”

He nodded again. “We can be able to go back in a few weeks, I hope.”

She slid back into the shoes and was surprised at how wobbly she suddenly seemed on the spindly heels after padding in the comfortable slippers. Giggling, she fiddled with the straps and finally managed to get them buckled. “It is...highly unfair of you, sir,” she chuckled.

“Oh?” he smirked, holding up her elbow.

“If you had told me that I would not be able to walk afterwards, I might not have come.”

He laughed, causing several of the nearby women to stare at him. “I suppose I could have told you more about the sake....”

“In-in-indeed, sir,” she giggled. “I am...a bit—.”

He chuckled and helped her stand. “Is there...anything else you would want to do?” He nodded towards the gambling machines meaningfully but not without a grimace of distaste. “Since we are here?”

Belle looked at him and then the raucous machines. “Err...no? Why would I?”

That made him smile at her in a slow and meaningful way. “I...I am very... happy to hear that. Perhaps we should return to the penthouse?”

She nodded, feeling suddenly excited by the prospect. He whisked her through the wide open floor, past the poker tables, the blackjack and craps tables and the lines and lines of machines. There were even tables around small monitors showing sports with people dropping chips and money and placing bets.

Hanzo noticed her interest and took her to a nearby table. The monitor showed a wide shot of an oval track. The camera abruptly zoomed into a series of small boxes with numbers above them. The announcer was speaking in some other language and Belle frowned as she tried to figure out what was being said.

Hanzo leaned slightly and said into her ear, “This is a new sport that we have brought to the area. It started in China with one of the factories making Omnic parts. One of their engineers took a bunch of the extra parts for the X9A4-ZE models and made the first Omnic animal—a greyhound.

“The breakthrough was that the founder revived dog racing without injuring any animals. Now the Omnic dog racing industry brings in over twelve million each year.” Belle gasped up at him. “It has also led to a new industry that makes specifically Omnic animals for military use and for service use for handicapped people.”

Belle blinked at him and then stared as the announcer shrieked and a shrill whistle sounded. The doors to the boxes opened and seven sleek, shiny and slender robotic greyhounds burst out and began running. Dirt flew up as their paws dug into the track, hitting the camera lenses as they rushed past.

Hardly thirty or forty seconds passed, and the race was over. An Omnic greyhound in with shimmering metallic red plates over its body was brought to a small pedestal for the cameras. A table appeared on the screen, giving a host of statistics and even showing a graph with tiny lines jumping up higher and higher. The cameras zoomed back and the monitors showed three of the artificial animals—the red winner, a black and silver one in second place and a metallic blue one with silver stars on it in third place.

“It is supposed to be quite exciting,” Hanzo drawled. “And it, of course, is something to bet on.”

She looked up at him and then the screen again. “I guess? But wouldn’t that hurt normal dogs?”

Hanzo nodded, glancing over the crowd without appearing to. “Dog racing and such was outlawed in the No Racing Animal Act of 2069, which prohibited all animal racing—even horse racing. The previous acts had limited the amount of time an animal could race, the number of races per year, the requirement that they use fully grown adults. With this new use of Omnic technology, a number of industries are making comebacks—including dog racing and cock-fighting.”

Belle shuddered and turned away. “It sounds brutal.”

Hanzo sucked in a soft breath and looked down at her. Her eyes were wide and seemed starry with tears and sympathy for those long gone animals. He gave her a gentle smile and waved her on towards the elevators. “Come...we do not need to stay here.”

She nodded and followed him across the floor. Women stared at him hungrily, like piranhas and men gave him nervous glances before moving away. She saw several men in formal kimono like Hanzo was wearing—which gave her a breath of relief she didn’t know she needed—and there were even a few women in mouthwatering beautiful kimono and elaborate hairstyles. Two were even in the traditional white paint and red lips that reminded her of pictures of geisha and they tittered behind fans as they watched him. Belle straightened her back and tried to show she was proud to be next to him, but it was hard as every woman she saw seemed more glamorous than the one she just passed.

“You do not need to worry, Kirenia,” he whispered as they dodged an inebriated couple with a tray of chips. “I am here with you and not them.”

“What?!”

“You seemed to be perhaps worried,” he shrugged. “The way you straightened your back and jogged so that you were just next to me seemed to indicate you were anxious.”

Belle shrugged with a shy smile as they got to the elevator. “I suppose.”

“I am here with you by my own choice. Not with them.” He gave her a wolffish smile. “And I would have it no other way.”

Belle smiled up at him as the elevator arrived. Suddenly her shoulders felt a lot lighter. “I’m...I’m glad.”

“I hope so,” he grinned as the door shut behind them.

They rode up in silence to the penthouse. The merry little chime sounded and they stepped out. Hanzo glanced around the room—he did that a lot, Belle realized—and then nodded down to her. “Now, I have waited to do this.”

Ever so lightly, he pulled her chin up with his knuckle so that she was staring right into his eyes. “Anata wa utsukushidesu,” he whispered against her lips. Gently he brushed her lips with his own, smirking at her shy gasp. “You are beautiful.”

Belle shivered as his voice dropped to a low and whispery octave. She leaned against him, amazed that he was so warm and strong beneath the formal robes. Her hands fell naturally to his shoulders before she wrapped her arms around his neck. He smelled of green tea and a smoky, sweet smell that seemed to be infused into his skin, his clothes. Again his lips brushed hers, moving along her cheek to nibble at her earlobe.

His hands were strong and soothing, running along her waist to go behind her. She grinned lazily up at him as she felt the top of her dress come loose. He pulled back with a questioning look on his face and she nodded slowly. He grinned, his eyes giving her a gleam that shot into her core and made her toes curl in her shoes.

“Anija!” Genji called from the other room. Hanzo stiffened and pulled her to his chest, whirling slightly so that she could not even see the other man. She heard the other man’s slick footsteps clack up behind Hanzo. “Father is on the phone.”

Hanzo glanced down at her and nodded with a shrug. “Watashi no ofisude wa, Genji.”

“Uhh...sure.” There were a few shuffling sounds. “Hey! Do you have someone with you?”

“Okina osewa,” Hanzo hissed over his shoulder.

“Is that the pretty chick from the game?” Genji’s footsteps came closer and Belle thought she could see the tips of his hair over Hanzo’s shoulder. “Come on—let’s see her.”

“Okina osewa!”

“Fine. Fine.” Genji’s steps walked away. “I’ll transfer the call to your office.”

Hanzo sighed and looked down at Belle. “I regret.... I must take this.”

“It’s your father?” she asked. He nodded and she gave him a smile. “It’s important, then, right?”

“He is yobikake—on the phone—from Japan, so I suppose it must be,” Hanzo sighed. He shook his head. “I must take it.”

“Of course,” she nodded, dropping a shy kiss to his cheek. “Your family must be worried about you, so far from home.”

He gave her a queer look and nodded. “Yes.... Worried.” He shook himself a little and gave her a shaky smile. “They are worried about me.” Genji’s voice floated to them, calling his name. “If you wish to go to your room—I do not know how...much time I am needed.” Belle couldn’t help letting out a small, frustrated sound which made him grin. “It.... If your door is not....” He gestured impatiently. “I do not know the word.”

“What?”

“When the door is not to open.”

“‘Locked’? Is that—?”

“Yes.” He smiled at her. “If your door is not, I can come in?” She nodded. “If it is...I do not wish to disturb you.”

Belle smiled and nodded again. “Okay.”

Hurriedly, he led her to the bedroom she had slept in. Belle glanced at him as he gave her a shallow bow and then closed the door behind her. Something felt a bit strange about how the mood changed. But surely this was just a matter of a loving father on a very long distance call, right?

She took off the silky dress and hung it up with the shoes underneath them. It was a shame that she didn’t have something appropriately seductive, beautiful. The fizzy buzz in her head made her feel languid and made her long to be a beautiful part of his world. He seemed so worldly, so wise and erudite that she couldn’t imagine how one earth she was the one next to him.

The bed had been made, the room refreshed as she had been out. A small tray was on the corner of the bed with a bottle of sparkling water with two small cups and a white cup with two small fortune cookies in it. Moving the tray aside, she pulled down the sheets.


	6. Chapter 6

Some time later, there was a small knock at her door. Belle almost didn’t hear it, lost in deep dreams of wide open rooms of cream and gold, but it came again. She shook herself awake as she turned on the dim bedside lamp and stumbled to the door with the sheet around her body. Hanzo stood there, his eyes wide and questioning and alert.

“I had worried that you changed your mind,” he whispered.

She shook her head slowly, rubbing her eyes. Stepping back, she watched as he crept inside, looking around the room repeatedly. “Were you...?”

He jumped slightly, his eyes snapping back to her. Dropping his chin to her, he blushed and smiled, “It is a.... I suppose you could say, ‘habit’ to see if anyone is hiding in the corners of the room before coming in.”

Abruptly he spun on his heel and came to stand in front of her. His hands shook as he put them on her shoulders. “I am... not going to-to force you. If you do not wish it, I-I-I can hear that and.... I can depart.” Belle whimpered softly, feeling his warm hands gently massage the tops of her shoulders. “There is no price to my assistance.”

She stared up at him sleepily. “But why did you choose me? Why did you choose me to help?”

He smiled warmly and a thick finger touched her mussed hair. “You are quite a beauty. You are witty and....” He shrugged far more lightly than he intended as he reached to close the door behind her. “My words.... They do not match what I see in you.” His cheeks went ruddy again. “I do not have words for you to... understand.”

She nodded, her eyes crinkling in humor and appreciation. Slowly, he stroked her hair, pushing it away from her face. His hands were slow as his fingertips traced the curve of her shoulders and the gentle line of her collarbones. She reached up to trace the fold of his top in curiosity at the unfamiliar lines.

“May I sit on your bed?” he whispered hoarsely. “I do not wish to stand over you.”

Belle nodded, amused as he crept to the edge of the bed and sat down with a slight tug on the thick cloth of his hakama. She slid forward as well, struggling to keep the sheet around her. He nodded slowly beckoning her closer until she stood right in front of him.

“May I touch your arms?” he whispered. Only when she nodded did he reach out and stroke her skin. He stroked from her elbows to her wrist again, smirking as the brush of his hands made shivery little bumps rise on her skin. “You are not afraid?”

“No,” Belle whispered.

“Do not be afraid of me,” he whispered in reply, his eyes shooting up to hers anxiously. “I do not wish you harm.”

He stroked her gently again, sighing as she dropped one arm to touch his shoulder. “Do you wish to disrobe my body?” Belle thought for a moment and nodded. He pulled on the overlapping pieces until they gaped open. “There are small ties here at my hips and it will open.”

It took her a moment to figure out where he was guiding her hands, but she finally found the ties. He slowly showed her how to undo the ties and unwrap the layers of his top and the obi. Inch by inch, she slid the sleeves down his gleaming skin until she saw the first dark mark. Her eyes grew wide to see the delicate lines of the fur on the tail.

Suddenly he stiffened, seeing her face. His eyes dropped suddenly. “It is.... It is a tattoo.”

Belle became curious, pushing the fabric back more. It was definitely a tail, with a blocky spiral that looked like lightning around it. “It is beautiful.”

He shuddered as she pushed the cloth back to reveal his shoulder. “It is a....”

“A dragon?” she asked, her eyes wide in curiosity. “But it is so beautiful!”

He jumped again and then smiled widely. “It is... a treasure you think so.” He turned slightly away. “I hope you find it as good as you do now.”

Ever so slowly, she slid his clothing aside until he was wearing nothing but his hakama. His tattoo extended down from his shoulder to his wrist in the stylistic beauty. “It is so beautiful. But it must have... taken forever.”

“It is nothing—here and now.” His eyes went soft. “I am happy you find joy in my body, and I hope that it is as much as I find in yours.” His hands never strayed from stroking her arms with light sweeps and caresses. “Could I have your shoulders as well?”

She nodded and his arms reached up to brush her shoulders. They never strayed to the sheet around her, not even when he leaned forwards to kiss her knuckles. His eyes were dark as they looked up at her. “Is there more that I could do?”

She walked slowly to sit beside him. “W-w-what do you want to do?”

He chuckled and looked away briefly. “I wish to do everything.” She smirked and leaned into him. “But for you—for the innocence you bring—I know I must be patient or I risk ruining it.” He reached for her hand and kissed her knuckles. “I am a grown man and I have heard the word ‘no’ before. To avoid ruin, I can wait, Kirenia.”

“I am glad,” she admitted with a nod. “I have not....”

His eyes went to her face with amazement on his brow. “Never? Kirenia, you are an innocent?” Her blush gave him his answer. “Then I must be even more concerned for your joy.”

“What do I do?”

“If you....” He gestured lamely. “On the bed.”

She laid back, feeling that shivery excitement prickle her skin again. His hand was slow and gentle as he brushed her skin, stroked her hair from her face. The sheet around her did not move, not until she nodded her approval. Then it was pushed away with reverent and solemn ceremony.

“You are a treasure, my bajin,” he murmured as he settled on the bed next to her. “My innocent woman.” He smirked at her. “I wish to taste your skin. Your breasts.”

“Yes!” she blurted.

And so he did, dipping his head to rub the coarse, slick hair along his jaw against the velvety soft skin. Her nipples he touched gently with the tip of his tongue and then blew along the tips until they tightened. His worshipful touch and gentle lips caressed the skin until Belle was bucking and whimpering.

Every move, from kissing her breasts to her belly followed a soft “may I”. Even when he moved back up to settle between her legs and kiss her eyelids, he asked again. His fingers were soft and gentle, holding her as if she was made of glass.

“My gracious paramour,” he purred as he alternated licking her breasts, “I wish to have your innocence.”

Belle grunted, murmuring and shaking as gentle fire swelled in her veins. “I don’t know what to do!”

“I wish to give you joy,” he whispered. “I could not bear to give you pain.”

His head dipped and slid down again. His lips lapped between her legs, tracing the swell of her belly as softly as his hands ever had. Then his rough fingertips pushed between her legs, opening her intimate core to show her pink, moist flesh. “My tongue will give you a taste of what I wish for you.”

Slowly, he lapped at her hottest skin, tasting the thick liquid that glistened there and filled him with a scent of musky sweetness. In deliberate, delicate touches, he teased her and baited her. Her little sounds—soft moans and gentle groans—seemed to give him pleasure. He kept touching her, stroking her with gentle strokes until she couldn’t stop nodding. Then, he crawled to the edge of the bed and stood beside her. 

“Speak to me that I can undo this tie on my hip.” Belle nodded, her mouth dry as he undid the tight little bow. The precise pleats loosened and the top drooped. “Now can I untie this one?”. She nodded again, seeing that the fabric loosened and seemed to be hung right under his belly. “Should I continue? To disrobe?”

Only at her nod did he let the fabric fall, guiding it off his hard and ruddy cock. With two quick steps, he was as naked as she and stood at her hand. Shaking, she rolled and looked up at him. “Could I touch it?”

He grinned and nodded, taking a half step closer and settling into her reach. Belle stroked him and he let a startled hiss out as her curious fingers grazed him. They traced from the slit down to his groin, explored the crisp and curly hair down there. His breath went shallow and moaned as she got to her knees to touch him with both hands. Abruptly, a few drops of cloudy fluid seeped out of the tip.

Belle looked up at him with a frown. He nodded slowly and hesitantly pushed forward. “You are my joy. I am not... so impatient.”

“You are wonderful,” she purred, touching the little drops. For a moment she stared at the little bit on her fingertips and then slowly she licked it as if debating whether or not the taste pleased her. “But...?”

“It gives me happiness that you are enjoying my body.” Her hands traced over his skin and he shuddered as well. Quite soon, she was pressed against him on her knees on the edge of the bed. “Could I enjoy you, too?”

“Slowly,” she whimpered as he pushed her down to her back.

“Hai—yukkuri,” he whispered against her lips.

With infinite patience, he pushed the tip against her. She whimpered, tensing and he backed away. Then, a bit more firmly, he suckled her breasts and kissed her and nibbled her fingertips until her hips began uncertainly thrusting against his cock. Unexpectedly, her hips pressed hard against him and he felt a heartbeat burst between his legs.

Again, he pushed gently forward. She gasped and shuttered. His voice cracked sharply and his hands twitched with suppressed violence. “I do not wish to hurt you. I do not wish you—. Ahh...Kirenia.”

“Slowly,” she whined.

“Only if you wish it.” He met her eyes with an almost fearful restraint. “Your innocence should not be ruined with haste.”

He moved forward again, and Belle groaned slightly. “I would take this pain from you if I could.” She shuddered and he felt her whimper against his lips. “We have... unending hours together. This does not need to happen too quick when your beauty makes me shake.”

It was an endless time as he slowly pushed into her. His lips never stopped moving and his hands held her as if she was priceless glass. Repeatedly, he reassured her that she was beautiful, that they had time if she wished to stop. And then, he was within and filling her. “You are my kirenia. My beauty.”

Belle whined as the tightness eased, and the feeling became simply a pleasant fullness. He slid back and forth, touching all sorts of sensitive places. With a caress behind her knees that made her gasp, he brought her legs to his waist. He stroked her arms and kissed her fingertips as he began moving back and forth.

It was a jump from simmering to boiling and it felt completing to be joined like this. Belle whined, her own body jumping up to meet his on an instinctual level. Hanzo nibbled her earlobes, enjoying her soft sighs. His words collapsed to soft curses and mumbled Japanese and she thrilled to know that she was overwhelming him.

“Cum for me. Ken. Ken. Ken...kirenia. Isoganai.” His words were pressing into her and he began to shake. “Cum. I... Catch you.”

Belle felt the boiling explode. He growled, shaking as she unraveled and thrashed. Then, in a lightning move, he pushed back until he left her body. She whined at the strange feeling of suddenly being empty, her eyes cracking open as he gripped his cock suddenly with white-knuckled fury. Not a second later, he groaned and shuddered and white seed spurted out to land on her leg.

Then, he wove and staggered to collapse at her side. Reaching across the bed, he fumbled to find a box of tissues to dab against his oversensitive skin. She watched wearily as he staggered up and brought her a warm, wet washcloth. In silence, he cleaned her up with careful strokes.

Then, he looked at her and the bed. Belle smiled at him and scooted over. Silently, he climbed into the bed beside her. But even then he carefully tucked her into the sheets and drug a pillow under her head. “Koneko. Rest.”

Belle snuggled down into the sheets, surprised that he was so warm against her. There was a whispered question that she nodded sleepily to and his strong arm curled around her waist. It was even more comforting to have him kiss the back of her neck, brush the hair out of her sweaty face. Before she knew it, she had fallen completely asleep.


	7. Chapter 7

Hanzo’s consideration did not stop there. He ordered them both breakfast the next morning—juice, coffee, hot tea, and a basket of muffins and croissants with jellies and honey—and they laid in the bed as they ate it. He was still gentle as he touched her, praised her.

“...and you could go down to the shopping.” He smiled at her shocked face. “If you wish, you could give me a report of your afternoon.” He went quiet for a moment. “I do not know what to call it—someone who shops to see if they are served correctly?”

Belle flushed and nodded. “I guess ‘secret shopper’?”

He nodded and then grinned at her. She was relaxed still as they lounged in the bed. Their nakedness didn’t seem to bother her and she did not glance at the tattoo in wonder or disgust. It was refreshing compared to the anxious reactions he normally got. “It would be good to see what happens.”

“Oh!” she flushed. “Well, if it will help you....”

He nodded. “It is...hard for them. I am... different.”

Belle grinned. It was a relief to see some way that she could help him. Even if it meant that she was shopping in the overpriced boutiques, she could do this for him. “Of course. No problem.”

“Good,” he nodded, finishing his cup of hot tea. “Then, I am reassured. It is unfortunate that I must go to work now.”

It was with obvious reluctance that they both got dressed. First, he helped her go through the various bags to put together an outfit and led her to the shower. When she got out of the shower and was dressed, he was dressed as well in a smart looking suit and had a towel over his shoulders to press the last water from his long hair.

He pressed a thin card into her hand for the elevator and the penthouse door. Then, with a rueful grin that made him seem like a young and joyful man, he led her to the elevator. “It would be better to go down separately. To keep the secret in shopping.” He waved slightly. “Charge it to room 5500—that is the code that charges the suite without saying ‘penthouse’.”

Belle nodded slowly and repeated, “5500.”

He smiled and nodded in return. “I can have a notebook for you at the front desk.”

Belle nodded shakily again. “All right. You can go first.” She winked. “And then your reputation is safe.”

He nodded in return with a grin. “And do not forget. I am anticipating dinner.”

“Dinner. When?”

“6:00.”

Belle waited in the penthouse for about half an hour, ignoring the two guards who were walking through at a discrete distance. Their faces were carefully solemn and they seemed to be making a great effort to avoid showing any expression or judgement on their faces. In return, she tried to make no trouble, staying only in the lounge area and her suite. At last, she rose and went to the elevator to begin her shopping.

Immediately, she went to the front desk and there was, as promised, a discrete leather bound notebook and a nice box the size of a case for sunglasses that was filled with pens. She even had a small box with her name on it in the employee area. The front desk gave her a pamphlet with maps of the public floors. Of course there were multiple floors of gambling, but then there were three floors of shopping and boutiques in addition to the partner stores in other buildings.

She started at the edge of the second floor with an unassuming little store. It was simplicity to be a tourist and browse the selection of goods. The bored teenager at the counter gave her a smile and went back to her game on her phone. Belle picked out a small item and brought it to the counter, only to pause at the display of hand-glazed teacups. There were blue and white ones of waves, gray and slate ones of mountains and then she found the perfect ones. It was a carefully matched pair of black glazed cups with an arch of cherry trees on each one that formed a heart when placed side-by-side. Somehow it seemed perfect to give to Hanzo. With scarcely a word, the little pair of black teacups with hand-painted sakura branches was wrapped up and in a slick white bag and the teenager went back to her game.

The next store was an imported candy store. There a pair of grandmotherly women in black dresses smiled and greeted her warmly. She was offered a small tour of the store, given a booklet of their candy flavors—this month’s special was Belgian dark chocolate around a cluster of almond and Rainer cherries—and allowed to wander. Everyone who came in was given the little booklet and taken around. She claimed she could not decide—and who could, honestly?—and one of the women gave her a small, silly quiz that claimed to be able to predict her favorite flavors. When she picked out a few treats—a pair of taiyaki pastry fish and two white chocolate lucky cats with their paws up and silly smiles on their faces—then she was also given a third chocolate and then a link to sign up for regular emails.

The third location was a small spa next to a small cubby where a bellhop took her packages up to the suite for her. Belle blinked at the dizzying array of services—who knew the differences between Swedish massage and Shiatsu?—and chose three of the options. At least she knew what a manicure and a pedicure were, but she spent some time choosing the third one and actually felt guilty with the number of questions she asked. Finally, she went with a Euro-Omnic reflexology treatment which turned out to be an Omnic with adaptations at the upper limbs. She stared at the wide, flat ovals with their hundreds—or thousands—of individual heads like the heads of nails. The individual dots moved independently and created custom ripples and gave her a kind of massage over her face.

She barely made it back to the front desk and had finished her notes when Hanzo came up behind her. He glanced at her notes and then nodded, escorting her silently up to the suite. Dinner was a huge platter of elegantly displayed sushi and was surprisingly subdued.

She grew sick of the silence and finally asked, “How was work?”

He glanced up at her with widened eyes. Finally he chuckled and replied, “The... casino profits are rising, but not fast. The industry is showing some growth, but we are going after a specific sub-market—.”

She laughed and nodded, “Okay...but how was your work? How was your day?”

“I... It was nice,” he smiled. “I had something I was anticipating.” He took a sip of water. “You.”

She flushed and nodded. “I was excited about being here with you.” She grinned as he smiled. “I was thinking about this all day when I was downstairs.”

“And what were your results?”

“The stores you’ve got are great and it’s cool that I can go downstairs and get just about anything. I spent some time in a sports bar and I... I just about couldn’t sit still.” She flushed and nodded at his curious expression. “I was thinking of you.”

“Ahh.... You forgive me if I omit that part in my considerations.” He grinned smugly. “However, I am curious if there are things that should change?”

“Well, it would help to have flights of drinks in that sports bar,” she replied softly. “A way to sample several of your beers or drinks. Just single swallows so that I can taste the difference between an ale and a lager and a stout.” Her cheeks went pink. “I don’t really know what to order....”

He nodded solemnly. “I appreciate the insight. Was the service good?”

She nodded slightly. “I liked the food and the ability to change the speaker to the game I was interested in. But I’d appreciate captioning too so that I can figure out what is going on.” She frowned slightly, her gaze dropping anxiously. “But the server was a bit...rude.”

“What?” He scowled. “Who was it? I am going to correct that!”

Belle blinked and shrugged slightly. “It... he said his name was Jeremy—.”

“Then this ‘Jeremy’ and I must talk.” He scowled and picked up a colorful piece of sushi. Or maybe it was sashimi. Belle realized belatedly she’d have to ask him the difference. He looked up at her and gave a tight smile. “I am not interested in maintaining those who do not treat every guest with respect.”

She took in a nervous breath, both somewhat alarmed at how seriously he was taking this and a lot flattered that he seemed to be so protective of her. “I believe you will,” she whispered in a placating tone. “I am not worried about it.”

He glanced at her, looking into her eyes, and then nodded. “I should not worry you so.” He gave her a smile and nodded. “However, it is important to me that you are treated with utmost respect. In Japan, disrespect cannot be forgiven.” He looked down at his plate again. “Did you see the news report?”

Belle felt utterly relieved as he changed the subject. “I saw that there is another bill about setting up employment protections for Omnics.” He nodded slowly with a grin. “That there is concern about them forming unions.”

Hanzo leaned back slightly, his smile warm in his eyes. “And what did you think about that?”

So they spoke lightly of news and the current events. Finally, as they both pushed away their plates, she glanced up at him and asked softly, “Where is...ahh... your brother?”

Hanzo gave her a speculative look. “Are you... interested in his whereabouts?”

“I thought... you might be eating with him,” she shrugged, “since you are missing home?”

He let out a short snort and shook his head. “No...he is out doing whatever it is he does.” He shrugged. “Here he can.... I do not know the words. He is—we are.... We are free here.”

Belle picked up her water glass to hide her confusion. “I suppose.”

“To answer you, I am missing parts of my home,” he murmured softly. “There are others parts I do not miss.” His hand went to hers and brought her fingertips to his lips. “I am enjoying the good fortune of being with you, rather than missing home tonight.”

There was another rush as he touched her hand. “Do I still have... permission to touch you?”

She nodded and flushed. Again, he was soft and gentle as he led her around the guard and went to her bedroom. Of course, the room was perfect again, but he wasted no time even in pulling down the sheets. Not when they could lay on top of the covers and rip off their clothes like teenagers. She felt the flush of heat and pleasure again as he kept moving, kept touching and caressing her. He was so careful, asking permission and peppering her skin with soft, reverent Japanese. But this was more explosive, now that they had clear understandings of each other and she felt her climax rage through her like thunder and then his answering growl as he thrust between her legs.

It wasn’t until after he had cleaned them up, after he had tucked her in. It wasn’t until after then that she realized the sticky truth that he had not pulled out after all....


	8. Chapter 8

Two days later—two beautiful days that Belle felt were warming to a brilliant incandescent hue—she awoke to find herself alone in the suite. She dressed—a nice blouse and skirt in splashy dots of blue and pink and fuchsia with some heels—and picked up the leather messenger bag that held her notebook and pens and her reviews of the stores. She had a Shogun’s Palace pager, now, along with a sleek phone that primarily received messages from Hanzo and the occasional text from Genji asking her where his brother was.

Her suite also held a few pieces—a sleek black vase of cherry branches, a collection of slender leather books of folk tales, a small frame that held a printout of a picture of her and Hanzo, small things. A few of his clothes were here in her closet or in her dresser. More often than not, she had a few of his business magazines on her bedside table and once he left a folder of his business papers. And she had been right—Hanzo had loved the teacups, so when they drank tea in the evenings or before bed or in the morning, they would use those cups.

She had not seen much of the other Shimada brother, though. In fact, the most time she had spent with him, he had brought her a pair of small boxes from the apartment she had shared with Jesse. Of course, it was all picked over—the few valuable things they had and the weapons were gone. But she had her identity papers now and an old cell phone that had six old messages from people who knew her and were naturally curious about a group of neatly suited Japanese men who cleaned out everything.

She charged it and replied to the messages. She was fine. She had a job and was doing well. Then she set the old phone aside and ignored it on the desk beside the obligatory hotel phone. So, as she picked up the passkey and her wallet, she was completely surprised to hear the old cell phone ring.

It must be her old neighbor—the widowed Mrs. Twiddles—calling again to check on her. The daft woman was convinced that Belle was in danger. Somehow, in seeing Hanzo’s men, she had decided that Belle had been kidnapped. So she insisted on calling every few days to ask in a shivery, excited voice if the Mob still had her.

“Hello, Mrs. Twiddles,” she chirped as she hunted for a hairpin. “No—I am not being held by Cosa Nostra or the Mob—.”

“Well, ain’t that a cryin’ shame!” Jesse barked over the phone. “Now, ya need ta get me outta here!”

Belle shivered and dropped the phone. The cowboy’s voice howled and cursed as she fumbled to pick it up again. “H-h-ello, Jesse.”

“Shit...ain’t that nice?” He growled, “Now get yer ass over here an’ post my bail.”

“B-b-but I can’t! I don’t have anything!”

Jesse snarled, “I remember that purty necklace ya had. That would get me outta here.” He paused and then snarled again, “And I know ya got a way that ya probably got a ton more like it. So, hock it all an’ get me out!”

“No!” she shrieked. “You owned the ranch and you never told me!”

“Hey! Don’t you take that tone with me, missy!” His voice dropped to a tinny scowl, “Ya have no idea what’s been going on.”

“Then tell me!”

“Look, bitch, I ain’t gotta tell ya nothin’.” His voice dropped to a hoarse whisper, “I was in a tight place an’ Deadlock was already in th’ area. I had no choice an’ they offered me a bankroll ta clear out an’ let them have a property in th’ area ya get started. So, I—.”

“So you arranged the sale! Except you sold it to yourself!”

“Well, I didn’t have a choice, did I? I sold it legit so that I could show the deed ta Deadlock—.”

“Through a proxy you hired and then you took their money,” she hissed. “So you cheated them. And me!” Her voice cracked shrilly. “You still had the ranch. You let the Deadlock gang get settled and take over. You drug me everywhere and lost every penny we ever had with drinking and gambling.”

“Ya don’t get it! I ain’t gotta choice now. Not with Overwatch in th’ picture! Don’t ya see? I’m in the hoosegow and unless I make bail, I’m gonna be up th’ creek and in the big house and never gettin’ out.”

“Whatever you did,” she sniffed, “is not my fault. Besides, Overwatch wouldn’t be involved at all if you—!”

“Fuck! Just a few bad calls is all they got on me.”

“A few bad calls?” she asked fearfully. “What did you even do to get them involved?!”

“It don’t even matter now,” he hissed. “They’re tryin’ to corner me. That I got no choice but to either rot in jail or have Overwatch bail me out so’s I gotta work for them. Don’t ya see, Belle? If ya bail me out, I get out and vamoose.”

Belle dropped her bag in shock. “L-l-look. I can’t help you. I don’t have anything more than $15 in my account and that’s borrowed for cab fare.” Jesse sputtered angrily. “I don’t. I can’t—.”

“Ya living with him, ain’t ya? Ya got that necklace, right? He’s probably loaded ya down with stuff. And all ya need ta do is be sweet for him and he’ll give ya whatever ya want.”

“No, Jesse! No. Just, no.” She sobbed into the phone. “I’m not gonna do—.”

“Do what? Fuck him? Or are you already doin’ that fer free?” Jesse snorted. “Hell, ya could probably just walk down to the casino and get whatever ya want. Just blink yer lashes and ya could probably get whatever ya wanted. Or grab a tray of chips.”

“No! I won’t do that! That’s stealing.”

“It’s makin’ him pay for what he did. And for fuckin’ ya—ya can always play that card.”

“He’s not like that. He’s not like you!”

There was a long silence and Belle was just about to hang up when he cackled in her ear. “An’ ya think he’s some kinda Prince Charming? Fuck no, he ain’t. He’s a worse gangster than ya ever seen—.”

The phone went dead right there. Belle shivered and dropped to her knees in the bedroom. Whatever Jesse had been about to accuse, it was lost. Desperately, she mashed buttons on her phone, hoping to catch the last number. The tears running down her face made it worse and she accidentally dialed the Las Vegas Tourism Board Anti-Terrorism computer help desk because she thought the last two fives were eights. Finally, she got the number right.

“Error 14-8. This is the Las Vegas Police Department High Security Detainment. The number you have dialed has blocked incoming calls. If you have reached this message in error, then please dial—.”

Belle slammed the disconnect button. Shaking even harder, she picked up the phone and put it back on the desk as if it hadn’t been moved. Fumbling around, she picked everything up and stumbled to the door. There was no choice except to get out of here and think and calm down. Pausing a moment, she grabbed the old phone again only to set it down again. Then she bolted out of the room.

Genji was coming out of the elevator when she ran to it. He swept one arm wide and caught her. “Hey there.... What’s upset you?”

Belle shook her head and wiped her eyes. “Sorry. Nothing—I’m fine.”

He smirked down at her and shook his head. “Don’t think so.” He cocked his head and smiled. “So you’re not happy to see me. And you’re not that shocked at my hair—I haven’t touched up the green in weeks—so what’s eating you?”

Belle chuckled despite the sudden terror in her head. Jesse knew where she was. He could find her and there was no telling what he would do. “No...nothing like that.”

“There’s that smile,” he smiled. “Now care to say what’s up?”

“J-j-just a... phone call.”

Genji frowned as he pulled her aside. He glanced at the guards and shook his head with a stern expression. Belle barely caught a glimpse of them before they bowed and disappeared into the other hallways. Then, just as quickly, he was smiling at her in his usual, friendly way. “So what happened?”

“N-n-nothing. Really.”

He smiled and shook his head, crossing his arms. “Not gonna work on me, Princess.” He raised an eyebrow in a way that would have been playful if he weren’t obviously so serious. “Or do I need to call Hanzo?”

Belle shook her head again. “It’s just a stupid thing, really.” Genji only stood there. “Look... Jesse is-is-is in jail. He called me. Wanted me to—.” He stared at her as she glanced away. “He wanted me to bail him out.”

Genji’s stern face fell in confusion. “I don’t get it. What did he hope to gain?”

Belle felt her legs shake again. “He wanted me to pay money so that he could get out of jail. Then he would do another of his disappearing acts and skip town.”

Genji sighed and nodded. “Leaving you as a sacrifice for the court’s righteous anger.”

“Oh, fuck! I’d be an accomplice or something, wouldn’t I?”

Genji nodded, his usual smile fading into a stern pursing of his lips. In that moment, he looked a lot like his brother. “That would work and he could get away with it, except for one thing.” She looked up at him. “Hanzo ordered an investigation on you after he met you. The cowboy, too.” Despite Belle’s pale shocked gasp, he continued in the same implacable tone. “It was above board, as you would say. You graduated high school and volunteered and you work—worked—hard when you weren’t moving around. You have a surprising good credit rating, you know.”

“And Jesse?”

Genji flushed and finally glanced away. “Not so good. He’s... We didn’t know what kind of mess he was. A hot mess. Wanted in a few states for cheating at gambling, theft, evading arrest.” Belle gasped. “Not major things as I measure it.”

“Not major?!” she whispered, dropping her things with a clatter on the floor.

“Not big things so far,” he grinned lamely. “But enough that he got on the radar. And when Overwatch began cracking the gang activities and Deadlock, his name kept coming up. He was... rising in their ranks but his schemes were being uncovered.”

“So, he needed to get to the top,” Belle muttered. “And it’s my fault.”

“Nah—he made his own destiny.” Genji shrugged. “Happens sometimes.” He thought for a moment. “But what money did he think you had?”

Belle’s voice cracked softly. “He wanted me to sell the gifts Hanzo gave me.”

Genji chortled. “Nice. So you even have to take the heat for that, too.” He nodded slightly towards the elevator. “We’ll go get Hanzo and figure something out.”

Without hurrying, he led her to the elevator and pushed the button. As soon as the doors closed, he looked down at her and smiled. “Don’t worry. You’re not doing this alone. Not anymore.”

She thought about that for a moment. “Why are you being so nice to me, anyway?”

“Nani?!” he asked. “Sorry—what?”

“Why are you both being so nice to me? I don’t have any money. I don’t have any land or anything.” She scowled at him. “So why have you—has Hanzo been so nice to me?”

Genji smiled at her as if that wasn’t the unpleasant truth he wanted her to avoid asking about. “He.... admired you.”

“He—.”

“Hanzo thought you were brave, sticking it out with Jesse when he was so rude at the house. He figured out that you were bait, but I was out, so it didn’t matter. He was going to catch Jesse cheating—but he didn’t know what to make of you. We recorded him double dealing and putting cards up his sleeve.” Belle grimaced as Genji’s ‘l’ sounds slurred and she worked to pick out his words. “He interfered in some... business we were doing at another casino and it made some of our associates angry. We were going to turn over the recordings and get him banned, but he brought you with him.

“As soon as I got patched back together, he had me dig around and we pieced together what was happening. But he was on Overwatch’s radar anyway. They knew he would disappear if they tried to arrest him outright so we—.”

The elevator dinged and the doors opened to show a very public and busy floor. Without stopping, Genji led her to the dingy office that Hanzo used. He was there, speaking rapid Japanese on the phone. He took one look at Genji’s face and snapped at whoever was on the other end of the line. Abruptly, he hung up and then nodded towards them.

“Yes?” he said.

“McCree-san got to her in the penthouse.” Genji’s voice was stern and cold. “She may need more protection.” Hanzo flopped in the chair and it squealed as he leaned back. When the older brother gestured, Genji nudged her shoulder until she sat down. “Any thoughts, anija?”

“How far did he get?” Hanzo asked softly. “What happened?”

Genji touched her slightly. “What did happen? I wasn’t there.”

“He called,” Belle muttered sourly. “He said that he was in jail. That he wanted me to bail him out.” Her eyes filled up with shivery tears again. “He said that he would be in jail a long time unless he cooperated with O-o-overwatch.”

Hanzo nodded slowly. “I see.” He cocked his head slightly, his eyes flicking to Genji as he stood at her side. “And did he say where you were supposed to get this money?” She turned red and looked aside. “Were you supposed to steal it? Were you supposed to rob me?”

Belle stared at him before blurting, “No! Of course not—I would never do that!” She scowled as he stared at her. “He said that I should...should sell the jewelry you gave me.”

“Did he say anything else?” Hanzo asked grimly.

“He said that he would disappear if I made bail.” She shrugged and looked at her hands. “I wish he would disappear.”

Genji cocked a smile and nodded. “If we could shake Overwatch, we could do that.” Belle gasped in shock. “Hey—just an idea. It would fix things.”

Hanzo took one look at Belle’s pale face and shocked expression and shook his head. Slowly, he said, “Kirenia, my younger brother is... perhaps kidding.” He shot a censuring scowl to Genji. “But I need to know what was said and we can address the issues.”

Belle stared at him. He was utterly casual and showed no more reaction himself to Genji’s outrageous idea of killing Jesse. It wasn’t until she gasped that he even tried to diffuse the idea. And for some reason, she was absolutely sure that Genji would absolutely go out and kill Jesse. Her mind swirled as she tried to even picture what it would look like to break into a jail, let alone into a high security affair like an Overwatch building. Jesse’s poisonous words were in her head—that Hanzo was no Prince Charming—and she couldn’t get them out.

“He said that I should sell the jewelry. That I should bail him out and he’d go,” she muttered. “That he was going to either be in prison or in Overwatch. That Overwatch would bail him out and that he’d have to go work for them—.”

“Kuso!” snarled Genji. Suddenly, he erupted in rapid Japanese. Hanzo replied in a cool, even tone that suggested he was calmly considering even the most repulsive options. 

Belle rubbed her eyes and glanced down. What did she have now? Two boxes of random junk and nowhere to go. A total of $23 dollars in her worn wallet—she knew better than to tell Jesse about all her money—and a couple of worn pairs of jeans and shirts. Maybe Hanzo would see his way clear to giving her a little something for the hours and report she had almost completed.

Hanzo took a look at her, her pale face and her fists in her lap. She had had enough, obviously. She was stressed and he knew her well enough to guess that she could use a rest. Standing with a heavy sigh, he nodded towards his brother and then to her. “Kirenia. Perhaps it would be better to rest. To consider what should be done.”

She glowered up at him. “What aren’t you saying? What aren’t you telling me?”

“What?”

“I get the feeling you aren’t telling me everything,” she snapped. Genji let out a snort and his shoulders shook as he gave a telling glance to his brother. “I... I am tired of secrets and tired of not knowing what’s going on.”

Genji and Hanzo exchanged knowing looks. Then, Hanzo nodded towards Genji again and said something softly. Genji dipped into a shallow bow—an obviously irreverent salute—and left, leaving the door closed behind him. Belle swallowed heavily, somehow suddenly certain that things were in motion already without her knowing. In a gentle tone, he said, “If we could... go to the suite.”

“Look...there’s obviously stuff I don’t know. Probably that I don’t need to know.” Belle sighed heavily. “I just don’t know.”

“You do not know?” Hanzo whispered. “But do you wish to find out?”

“I don’t know if I even want to know,” she sighed. “It probably isn’t even stuff I want to know, is it?”

He gave an uncertain shrug. “I cannot say whether or not you want to know. You are the one to know that.”

“What is Genji going to do? Is he... are people going to get hurt?” His silence and stillness said volumes. “I don’t want people to get hurt. I mean...we can leave him in jail. Let the authorities—the police or Overwatch—deal with him.” Tears filled her eyes. “I mean, he can’t hurt us from there, right?”

Hanzo studied her solemnly. “I do not know.” His gaze flicked to the phone on his desk. “But there is nothing we cannot do together.”

Belle looked at him as he slowly reached out to her. “I don’t know. I don’t even think that I know who you are.”

“Kirenia—.”

“No! I.... That’s not me.” Her eyes were haggard as she stared at his expensive, tailored suit and the heavy gold watch on his wrist. “Maybe...that’s the problem. I’m not who you want me to be.

“I’m just plain, old Belle. I’m just a poor kid from a ranch that doesn’t exist anymore. I can barely hold on to a waitressing job. And...and if you need me to be ignorant and obedient and dependent—then you don’t need me at all.”

“I....”

“Just... I want to figure things out for myself.” Her gaze locked onto his. “Can you do that for me? Can you give me some time?”

He nodded stiffly. His hand dropped and he turned away. “Hai—watashi wa anaya in jikan o ataemasu.” Then, he whispered, “Yes—I will give you time.”


	9. Chapter 9

Belle ran past Genji as she went to the penthouse, rocking him back on his heels. The younger brother stared at her as she wound her unsteady way to the elevator and she disappeared into the crowd. He waited for a minute and then ducked into the office.

His brother was seated in that abominable chair, staring at the opposite wall. Genji looked at his shell-shocked face and chuckled. Switching to Japanese, he offered, “She’ll be fine. She really digs you. She just needs a bit to figure out what’s going on.” He tilted his head curiously. “She doesn’t know yet, huh?”

Hanzo’s eyes closed painfully. “I did not want to hurt her. To scare her.”

“Well, something’s gotten to her. She’s smart and she’ll figure everything out, but it will take her a bit.”

“If only,” he muttered. “She is going to leave me. I feel it.”

“She’ll be back.”

“I wish that I shared your optimism, Genji.” Hanzo sighed and folded his hands. “I can only hope that she will be—.”

“Hanzo—she is in love with you.” Genji cracked a smile. “And you’ve adored her since you saw her. I think that she is really in love with you.”

“She is in love with half of me,” he sighed. “She has no idea who I am. Who we are and who our father is in Japan.” His voice dipped into a soft and sad tone. “She has no idea about the dragons. How can she love me if she does not know about something so much a part of me?”

“She will understand if you tell her.” Genji chuckled and dropped into an opposing chair. “So, you both cool down today and you go in tomorrow with roses and some chocolate and wine and spend the day talking to each other like normal people.”

Hanzo sighed. “She will not be there tomorrow.”

“So glum! So pessimistic! Will the world end if you were actually hopeful?”

He shrugged idly. “We must deal with the cow man first.” He leaned back in the chair and stared at the ceiling. “If he is serious about going over to Overwatch, he will carry too much information with him. He will know about our meetings at the casinos, about Shogun’s Palace and the people we invited to the tournament. He will know them by name.”

“So we deal with him,” Genji shrugged. “We take him out before he gets there.”

Hanzo shifted in his chair, switching to the hand language of the Shimada ninja. “We do not attack.” The squeal of the chair obliterated any chance for someone to try to detect their movements. “It will endanger your chances.”

“I can stop this,” Genji signed.

“How?”

“Join now.” Hanzo’s hands folded and settled on the desk. “Stop the fire before it starts.”

Hanzo stared at him for a moment, shifting his weight in the chair again and making it complain. Immediately, his hands went into motion. “He cannot give sensitive data if you do it first.”

Genji nodded slowly. “First one to the board is assumed to be the truth.”

Hanzo nodded with a weary expression. “So all that remains is your disguise and for you to disappear.”

Genji nodded with an anxious expression. “The disguise is ready. Not even Father will recognize me in that Omnic armor.”

“He’d better not. Or there will be no stopping him.” His brow furrowed. “And we will both die because I will have shamed him by not carrying out the clan’s orders.”

“Then we need to have our final fight.” Genji nodded and they both were silent, as they regarded each other. Hanzo sighed and pressed his fingers to his forehead. “Just don’t forget me, huh?”

“I will remember you. I will go each year to remember you.”

“I will see you there then.”

Genji grinned wearily and nodded. He stood and bowed low—as low as if he was bowing to an elder or an oyabun. Then, he went out to the floor. Abruptly, he was the life of the party—stopping to take pictures, gambling with abandon (which didn’t matter as much as it appeared since he was losing the money to his brother), and buying drinks for groups (paying to his brother). Everyone cheered as he came through, which was sure to make the internet sites and perhaps even making the news. Las Vegas was probably crawling with people reporting to the clan, so he wanted to be sure that it would be interesting.

In the meantime, Hanzo tried to figure out the spreadsheet of profits and losses. He had already been on the phone with the elders. His father was the second call. Everyone wanted him to reign Genji in. So, they called him whenever Genji made the news, whenever some ratty gossip flew across the Pacific. It seemed to be an almost hourly thing—to have someone call to tell him to scold and shout at him for not shouting at Genji enough.

He almost wondered if he didn’t have a brother, if they would leave him alone and let him work.

Anyone with eyes could see that Genji was not suited to lead the clan. He honestly wasn’t suited to even being in the clan. He was far too inclined to enjoy himself and allow others to do the same. He wanted to work for a living—an odd position to be sure in this day and age—and he wanted to be able to go to sleep without worrying about assassination. He wanted to party, to enjoy life and all it had to offer.

Genji also wasn’t stupid. Between Overwatch’s international reach and the current Japanese Emperor’s sudden and unrelenting pressure to end organized crime, it was increasingly hard for the old clans to keep functioning. Profits were slim—sometimes none—and trying to arrange things like policemen to turn a blind eye to their activities was getting harder and harder. Especially now that Japan was trying to attract the next Olympics, it was more and more expensive to simply operate. Costs were outrageous and even the higher margins for illegal drugs weren’t keeping up with their inflating costs. Even Omnics were making it difficult as more business turned to them to prevent subversion and corruption because the Omnics were not vulnerable to threats or flattery or money.

Most of the small gangs had been wiped out. The only yakuza clans that were still in business were the really old families that had been around for generations and saving every penny. The Shimada-kai had been helped, certainly, by the dragons because the dragons were invisible killers and extra eyes and ears everywhere. However, even they weren’t immune to the hostile environment of modern law enforcement.

No, Genji wasn’t stupid. He had looked up and looked around, did the math, and realized that even the Shimada were a dying breed. One had to admire that kind of mental clarity to see what everyone else insisted wasn’t there.

Hanzo couldn’t recall when Genji had first approached him about leaving the clan. Immediately, they were talking about fleeing internationally. It was far too expensive to try to pursue anyone in the States, not to mention that travel was far more closely observed and monitored now. Then, there was the problem that he would be a recognized criminal and subject to extradition. Not to mention being considered a traitor to the clan....

So, the best choice seemed to be to go to Overwatch—preferably before the cowboy did. They were sanctioned internationally, allowing their operatives to travel and thus be harder to catch. They kept their most valuable operatives out of the public view better than most agencies. They were willing to try to diffuse histories—to do the work to get pardons and erase records and bargain—to get people willing to do their jobs. The big leaders—Morrison-san and Reyes-san—were willing to do some of the dirty jobs.

Genji only needed to disappear....


	10. Chapter 10

Belle sat in her room for over an hour, trying to wrap her brain around what might be going on. There was nothing that made sense anymore. Jesse was a fugitive—apparently a bigger problem than she had ever known despite living with him for years. And she was instinctively sure that she was in even worse trouble with Hanzo.

But he was nice. He was kind to her. He gave her his time. He listened to her, asked her about what she found while she was going around the casino. He gave her a place of her own, allowing her privacy and asking her every time before he did something.

But she had only known him a few days. What did she really know about him? He owned a successful business. He had a brother and a father in Japan. He spoke multiple languages. He was upset that a nobody at a bar might have disrespected her. She knew his position on Omnic rights and on some current events. She knew he was practically allergic to the idea that she “dishonor” him by being a maid, but was willing to let her work as a secret shopper reporting...directly to him.

So, what else was there?

She shuddered, certain that there was something she didn’t know, but uncertain what it was. Perhaps she was making a mountain out of a molehill—they hadn’t known each other long. Perhaps he was simply reluctant to speak. Perhaps he wanted to be more sure of her.

She stared at the cell phone on the desk in her room. Who knew if Jesse was telling the truth? Apparently there was a lot she didn’t know about him either.

She sighed and looked around. This was getting her nowhere. She needed some kind of resolution or...or something.

Belle stood up shakily and stomped out. The penthouse was simply enormous—boasting two floors and seven bedrooms—and she had to realize that she had barely explored more than a few rooms. Truthfully, Hanzo came to her each night and she had no idea which bedroom was his.

She found Genji lounging in the living room with a sumo match on the large television. He glanced up at her with a grin and waved absently as a stern, suited guard came through. She smiled at his warmth and sat down, watching the big men bow and stomp in the ring.

“Who are the wrestlers?” she asked finally. Genji nodded and gave her their names. She blinked in confusion and then laughed. “I’m afraid that I don’t know much about sumo.”

Genji leaned back and grinned. “Well...I’m sure you will have time learn.” He grinned and picked up the remote. “Hanzo doesn’t watch every match, but he does watch the regional championships. The country championships.” He switched the channel to an American soccer match. “I’ll give you a book on sumo sometime if you are interested.”

“Yeah. I guess.”

He looked up at her face. “You look as if someone stepped on your toes, Princess.” She laughed. “So why not speak to me about it?”

Belle smiled. “I’m just... trying to figure out what I should do.”

“About what?”

“About... about Hanzo. About Jesse.” She sighed heavily, appreciating that he turned down the volume to hear her. “About what to do with my life.”

“Heavy duty stuff, Princess.”

“Yeah. I know.” She sat back restlessly. “It feels like I don’t have anything. I mean.... I don’t even speak Japanese. I don’t really understand what he means when he starts talking about ROI and profit/loss statements and industry news. At best, I’m doing this report for him—.”

“What report?”

“It’s a secret shopper scheme he said I could help with. So, I’ve gotten to a few of the stores and two restaurants and I’ve got a ton of notes.” She blushed. “And now he’s hacked at one of the servers because he was rude.”

Genji burst into laughter. “So, that’s why he’s reviewing the employees.” He grinned at her. “He was a man on a mission and I was wondering why. You won’t have to worry about that one again.”

“That’s not funny, Genji!” She rolled her eyes, amused in spite of herself. “But I need to get this done and I need to figure out what I’m doing with my life.”

He chuckled again and rose to his feet. “Stay here a moment.” He came back with a slender laptop and a pink wrapped box. “Why not use this?”

She blinked as he set it into her hands and tapped the keys. It turned on, showing her a beautiful ink drawing of a crest with two swirling dragons. She looked at it—it had the username ‘PrincessKirenia’—and a small piece of paper that had ‘LoveHanzo123’ on it. She logged in and was impressed at the array of software on it.

He sat back across from her. “So, you have everything in there. Best office software. Connection to the Palace network. The magazine icon shows the service we subscribe to that gives us hospitality industry news. Even a closed messaging app so that we don’t have everyone knowing everything.”

She grinned, tapping the keys. “You’ve thought of everything. Thank you.”

He leaned forward, handing her the pink package. “Ehh...that was from Hanzo. He kept meaning to give it to you—I just beat him to it.”

“More? This is too much already.”

He winked at her. “This is from me.” She stared at him stupidly and he gestured. “Open it up. That’s the fun of gifts, isn’t it? To have someone open it?”

She ripped the paper off and stared at the yellow box. “Learn Japanese with Rosetta Stone Deluxe” was written on the outside. She slid open the box and stared at the collection of discs and the elaborate headset with headphones and a microphone. “What is this?”

“So... I thought that you should at least be able to talk to him.” He laughed. “He’s not good at talking, even in Japanese, so you need every advantage you can get.” His face went solemn and he leaned closer, his voice dropping. “Let me give you some advice, Princess.

“Hanzo knows French and English and a smattering of Spanish. And he doesn’t talk much in any of them.” She laughed, nodding. “But...too many people know French and Spanish here, so it is good to know Japanese. Few speak it and it can hide what you do not want everyone to know.

“My advice is to study it in private. In your spare time when Hanzo is away. Do not tell him immediately. Just study it and in a year or two, when you are ready for a conversation, surprise him with it. Do not tell anyone else that you understand it—just Hanzo. Then, others can talk in front of you and you can help him by being his ears when others assume you don’t understand.”

She gaped at his cunning advice. “What?”

He shrugged. “It’s unfortunate that Japan isn’t the most understanding of female rights and privileges. Others will assume you are only a pretty face, that you will not understand what is being said and they will be more likely to talk. To speak about things that Hanzo needs to know—right?”

She smiled. “I...I guess.” Her cheeks heated up. “I just never thought about it like that.”

“Ehh...it might take some time, but you can catch on. We exist on a chess board, with pieces moving constantly. Once you understand, it becomes easier.” He winked with a smile. “And you, Princess, are probably the queen on the board once Hanzo realizes how much he loves you.”

She flushed again even darker. “I... uhh.... It hasn’t gone that far yet.”

He shook his head and she was sure that he knew more than he was saying. “Give him time.”

She chuckled again, about to tease him back when a guard burst in. In a trembling rattle of Japanese, he shouted at them. Genji stared up at him, his whole face going white and his body shaking as he shot to his feet. Immediately, he whipped out his phone and dialed, shouting into it.

Belle kept hearing ‘Genji’ and ‘Hanzo’—those she recognized—and then ‘Sojiro-sama’ was repeated often. But the rest was beyond her. Genji gave her a tight-lipped nod and left her alone. Bodyguards whirled around, and she saw one holding a hastily packed suitcase with a shirt sleeve flapping out of it.

She stayed there, waiting for something to make sense. As soon as Hanzo arrived, he would explain it to her, she was sure. As soon as she thought it, she saw “H.Shimada@ShogunsPalace” send a message and a few columns of characters. Frowning, she tapped the reply button and began typing.

“Hanzo? Is that you?”

Another string of characters answered her. She stared at them blankly and her hands felt uncertain as she typed, “Hanzo...it’s Belle. So, Genji gave me the computer early. Thank you.”

There was another string of characters and then another message popped up. “Belle...something came up. I must go to Japan. My father is sick.”

Her fingers flew over the keys. “Yikes! I hope that he gets better soon.” She waited a moment. “Do you need me to pack up?”

“Why? I will be back as soon as I can. Send me your report when you are satisfied with it.”

“I... feel like I should send him flowers or something.”

There was a long pause before he replied. “You are generous, but he will not understand.”

“Y?”

“He is what you would call old-fashioned. He would look down on you as a foreigner and a woman. Especially a woman who is not a fiancée or wife.” She stared at the words. “Not everyone is as understanding as you.”

“I will pray that he gets better.”

“My thanks. But we cannot get our hopes too far up.”

Belle stared at the screen with a perplexed frown. “I will pray simply that things go well. That you have safe travels. That you return soon.”

“Thank you. Watashi wa anata in modorimasu.”

The connection cut and the window went gray. Belle stared at it and then watched as Genji and the bodyguards hustled out. Suddenly the whole suite was dead silent and echoing with ghosts. She stared at the computer bleakly and finally typed, “I will miss you. I .”

Her fingers collapsed and she hit the enter key accidentally before she finished it. Not that she expected a reply, he must be busy trying to move that many people to Japan, but she did kind of want to at least tell him goodbye. Or good luck. Or something.

Instead she got the message “System Message: H.Shimada@ShogunsPalace has left chat.”

***********************

Belle stayed in the empty penthouse for several days before she began trying to continue going to the stores just to have company. A staff of three maids came in to change all the sheets and replace the towels in the en suite bathrooms and the small powder room. They gave her small nods and curious glances, but didn’t interfere with her as she typed her notes on the computer. To her surprise, they even refreshed the compact galley kitchen with bottles of water, small baskets of crackers and snacks, and some frozen and refrigerated packed foods.

She sighed as she finished the report. It had been fun, going shopping and evaluating her experiences. It had been glamorous, pretending to have far more money than she would ever see in her lifetime. It had also been very lonely, doing all this and not having Hanzo sitting across from her at dinner and asking her how her day was.

She would plug in the computer each evening, hoping to hear from him. Or even from Genji. Even a string of characters she couldn’t read would have brightened her day. Instead, there was only silence and a blank screen. And she lingered over the report, adding small details and new sections as she went listlessly to a new boutique or store and looked around.

She kept staring at the screen until she saw the box Genji had given her. Restlessly, she unpacked it and began to load the software on the computer. Thank goodness the computer had a huge hard drive, because it took several discs to finish loading it all. She plugged in the headphones and began the tutorial. Quite soon, she was picking her way through the first lesson—“konichiwa”, “hai” and “konbawa”—and talking as clearly as she could into the microphone.

That helped some—to hear the almost musical melody of the language—for two days as she absently snacked on whatever frozen meals were in the fridge and the dutifully refilled the bottles of water. She didn’t quite have the courage to try to go to Sakura again and didn’t feel like trying too many more places. Heaven only knew if she still had the endless spending power. 

It wasn’t until she got to a lesson on family—father, mother, brother, sister—that she shivered. Pulling up the chat window, she sent a short message: “Hope you are doing well. How is your otosan—”. She stopped there. Perhaps Genji was right—surprise Hanzo when he got back. “How is your father? I hope that things are going well.”

There wasn’t anything, no reply. Not that she expected it.

She kept going through the program. It wasn’t much, but it was something to keep her from laying about and missing him. Still, it started a bit of a routine, that she would spend a bit of time in the program, repeating what was said over and over until the program decided she was saying it properly. Then it would pleasantly chime and say she did it. Then she would type in a message before deleting it entirely and going back to her lessons. As she learned about “neko” for cat and “kitsune” for fox, she typed in another message “I cannot wait to see you again” and wondered if she wasn’t appearing too anxious and clingy.

It was the phone ringing that made her jerk, her hands hitting the keyboard and sending her message with a swoosh. She scrambled to untangle herself from the cords and the microphone headset and the light quilt around her legs. The headset crashed to the floor and the cord wrapped around her wrist as she reached for the ringing phone on the small table. Tugging, she cursed as the headset clattered and unplugged it from the computer.

The phone went silent as she got to it and she slammed the headset down. Her wires were a hopeless tangle and the microphone was bent strangely. As she glared at it and picked at the sudden tangle, it rang again.

Irritation vanished and she picked up, “Hey! I was just thinking about you. When are you getting back?”

Jesse’s voice came back in an oily, used car salesman way. “Well, darlin’, I’m so glad ya think so.”

“Jesse!” she squealed. “W-w-what are y-y-you doing calling...h-h-here?” He gave her a whiskey rough laugh. “I-I-I thought you were—.”

“In jail?” he laughed. “Well, that’s a real interestin’ story, ain’t it?” His laugh was bitter and long. “And I’ll just bet that ya know a lot of it, don’t ya?”

“What?! What are you talking about?”

“Well...I’m sure that’s yer story and yer stickin’ ta it, ain’t ya?” He laughed again. “So, now that yer old friend Jesse’s a free man again, then I figure I’d look up my girl and see how she’s doin’ for herself.”

“Go away!”

“An’ here yer at the Shogun’s Palace in th’ nice suite, ain’t ya?” He whistled in a way that raised the hair on the back of her neck. “I’m willin’ ya bet yer in his old suite—maybe in th’ penthouse, ain’t ya? Yeah, yer just swimmin’ in his bed and probably surrounded by his—.”

“No.”

“Right. And I’ll bet ya don’t got his jewelry and wearin’ something nice fer him, ain’t ya? Somethin’ nice and silky and sweet, eh? Maybe he likes satin like a baby doll?” He snorted at her indignant snort. “Maybe he likes leather instead? A little rough in the saddle, maybe, with a whi-?”

“Enough!” Tears went down her cheeks. “What do you want?”

Jesse chuckled again. “An’ yer still bein’ so high and mighty. But all I’m gonna do is save ya, so yer gonna be grateful.”

“Save me?”

“Yeah...from the evil gangster keepin’ ya prisoner.”

“From who?”

He laughed again. “Yer just too much! I tell ya what. You do th’ search. Look up yer boyfriend online. And I’ll tell ya what—I’ll wait.”

Belle snarled and typed the name Hanzo in the search bar. “There’s a zillion Hanzo’s. Even a Hanzo brand of swords.”

“Hanzo Shimada,” he drawled. “And his brother Genji Shimada and his father Sojiro Shimada. Don’t mind me—I can wait.”

Belle typed in “Hanzo Shimada” and “Genji Shimada”. Instantly came up a zillion photos of Genji—in clubs, in bars and on boats and at parties. She groaned at them, paging through them and only occasionally seeing Hanzo in the background or to one side. There was a few that showed a younger pair of brothers with an older man. If she squinted, she could see he had Hanzo’s brow and Genji’s rather pointed chin.

“So what? They’re—internet famous,” she sputtered. “That’s not anything—.”

“Whatcha lookin’ at? Gossip mags? Read th’ news.”

Belle switched from “Images” to “News”. Immediately her jaw dropped as she scanned the headlines. In fact, her whole body froze. She couldn’t look away, either—it was as if she was drawn to keep scrolling through the damning headlines.

“Playboy Yakuza Seen At Tokyo Club”

“Shimada Princes Return To Hanamura”

“Shimada Hanzo and Yamaguchi Aiko Seen Leaving Inari Shrine”

“Shimada Oyabun Escapes Prosecution: Corruption and Bribery Charges Considered”

“Shimada Genji—Playboy Yakuza—Seen With Starlet”

“Shimada Hanzo Implicated in Gang Activities, Escapes Prosecution”

“Shimada Sojiro Injured; Yakuza Violence Cited in Shootout”

“Shimada Sojiro Critically Ill Following Hospital Stay”

“Shimada Sojiro’s Reign of Terror Ends”

“Shimada Hanzo Presides Over Funeral; Shimada-kai Continues Alleged Criminal Activities”

Belle felt her stomach turn and tighten wretchedly as she kept scrolling. Jesse kept cackling in her ear, howling as her sobs poured out. Every new headline felt like a vicious pinch or punch to her body. Some of them had pictures—Genji in a club or somewhere, one paparazzi shot with him in only in a towel as he went into what the caption said was an onsen and a black and white newspaper shot showing Hanzo and a beautiful Japanese woman with a breathtaking temple in the fuzzy background. The screen washed away into blurry nothingness.

Finally, she just closed the laptop.

Jesse panted breathlessly. “Hey, Belle—ya seen th’ news? Ya see anyone familiar?” His laughter panted out as if he was holding his side. “Anyone ya wanna talk about?”

“No!” she wailed.

“An ya know what a ‘yakuza’ is, don’t ya? Or don’t ya care?” There was a terrible silence. “Or maybe his wallet is enough ta ya ignore th’ blood on his hands?”

“No!”

He let a long silence hurt her as she sat there. Then he purred, “Do ya want out. lil girl?”

“Yes! No! Yes! I don’t know!”

“Ya know...I’m respectable. Now. I got a place here at Dor—well, never mind to where.” He cackled again. “If’n yer a good girl—if yer willin’ ya just answer a few questions—then I’ll see if someone can’t help ya get out—.”

Belle slammed down the phone. To approve of Hanzo was to approve of his life. Who knew what kind of crimes and such—? Without even hearing the phone ringing again, she rushed about and threw clothes into a small bag. But as soon as she saw the teacups, she wanted to take them. And the lovely scarf she had bought. There was too much.

Growling, she rang the front desk and got connected with the small store that sold high end suitcases. Within twenty minutes—that was Hanzo’s residual power—the gangly woman in the Shogun’s Palace kimono uniform was wheeling in a roomy case with a long handle. She scrawled a messy line on the receipt and took the black leather and canvas and began to sling things into it. 

When she finally got to the teacups, she stopped. Hanzo had loved them—they had drunk tea out of them and they had washed them by hand daily so the maids wouldn’t accidentally break them. It was too much—too mean—to leave without saying good-bye. Or was it? She needed to do something and her mind was whirling with pictures of guns and bodies and crime scenes. She wrapped the cups in a slip and tucked it inside.

In an hour, she was out, wheeling the luggage behind her.


	11. Chapter 11

Hanzo shook as he staggered through the penthouse doors. The rooms were perfect—the typical fresh flowers and clean towels and so on. The past weeks had been terrifyingly stressful. His father had been in a gunfight—a rarity with the strict gun control of Japan—and he had offered to return then. Of course, Sojiro had snorted and told him to stay put. He was far more useful generating profit and establishing the quiet avenues that would pave the ways for future visas and possible immigrations if they needed escape routes.

It had been his pleasure to tell his father that the debt—the giri—he owed the American soldier had been repaid. It was his great debt, at last satisfied, and he could rest easy. And then he had wisely agreed with his oyabun to remain in this dusty and dry environment and generate as much profit as he could to fill the empty Hanamura coffers.

But super-bugs—specifically penicillin-resistant pneumonia—were not respectful of the wounded oyabun’s power or social standing or what money he had or who his ancestors had been.

So, he had been summoned to his ailing father’s beside.

He had rushed to get a flight, rushed to grab a ride and to get to the hospital. He had plowed through well-meaning nurses and doctors. He had gotten there to see his father surrounded by tubes and monitors and the smell of rubbing alcohol. Genji went to one side of the bed and he to the other. They took their father’s cool hands, murmuring their greetings.

“My sons,” whispered Sojiro. “You should not see your father like this.”

Genji smiled weakly, “We’re always—.”

“Glad to see you,” Hanzo finished with a grin.

Sojiro huffed out a coughing laugh. “You both still finish each other’s sentences.” They laughed in the soft, sad way that fathers and sons have laughed together at the twilight of lives. “So soon, the clan will be in your hands.

“Be strong my sons,” he coughed violently. “Be there for each other—no matter where you are or who you are.” Genji blinked and shivered, glancing up at Hanzo. “You do not fool me. I know you both are plotting something. I always have known it.” He smiled weakly, hacking a cough that shook his body before glancing up at Genji. “You always grin at your brother like that when you are plotting something.”

Hanzo smiled sadly. “Do not overtax yourself, Father.” He stroked the thin hospital sheets. “Save your strength and get well.”

The old man sighed, leaned against the pillows. “Not this.... I-I-I know I won’t cheat death this time.” His smile was fainter, a strain. “He will not let me go... this time and I am ready to face my ancestors... w-w-w-with two strong sons to lead my clan and all of my debts paid.” His eyes closed. “All that is missing is grandchildren....”

Genji gave a warm smile and nodded, ignoring the tears in his eyes. “Father...let me tell you. She is—.”

“S-s-she?” he panted with a smile.

“She is beautiful. She is.... You should see her. Her hair is like gold and she is so beautiful that she looks like an angel.”

“Long h-h-hair to her ass, I suppose?”

“Hardly—it’s quite...efficient. Down to her shoulders only. And she’s smart—.”

“Smart, eh?”

“A doctor. And funny. She can eat more chocolate than anyone. Piles and piles. Her favorite is sakura chocolate Kit-Kats and Swiss chocolate bunnies.”

Sojiro coughed and snorted and looked at Hanzo. “And I suppose you have a secret girl as well? Another doctor? Or a lawyer this time?”

“No,” he blushed, his eyes dipping restlessly. “Not really.” His father looked at him wisely and nodded, squeezing his hand. “She is...dark-haired. Her eyes look so wide and sad and innocent that when she smiles, it is like the whole room lights up.” The hand in his was so worn and withered he could feel the slow pulse beneath his fingertips. “She is proud, too. Too proud. She will not take a yen she has not earned, and when I tried to settle her in my suite at the Shogun’s Palace, she immediately went and summoned the front desk for a job application to repay me.”

Genji laughed and nodded, which made his father smile. “She’s a spitfire—but in a good way.” Sojiro turned to look at him as if it hurt. “I’ve met her, Father. She’s nice and seems meek and mild, but she has a mind of her own. She’s not afraid....”

Genji’s voice faded as Sojiro gave them both a smirk and squeezed their hands before settling in the pillows and closing his eyes. Brother looked at brother in agreement and they stayed like that, holding their father’s hands. The pulse under the parchment thin skin slowed, throbbing slightly as if it was hard to even sleep. Hanzo and Genji didn’t move, kept holding his hands and smiling and ignoring the slight tears that escaped.

A nurse came in, examining the monitors and writing things down on a chart. She went to the computer against the wall and began typing. Hanzo glowered at her and she murmured, “Forgive me, sir. I only needed to tweak the artificial lung settings and the oxygen levels.” Genji finally looked up at her with a snarl. “If he does not improve, I would suggest intubation—.”

The brothers looked at each other and Hanzo whispered, “No. It’s—.”

Genji looked up at him with moist eyes. “Would it help?”

The nurse looked at his chart and then frowned and shook her head. “I will go to get the doctor.”

“No,” Hanzo croaked. “We simply want him to be comfortable....”

She looked at them and then nodded. “I can make him comfortable. But....”

He nodded slowly and looked back at his father. The older man sighed and seemed to twitch and settle again. It was like he was simply sleeping deeply, content. His brother’s eyes went to his and he seemed to be eight years old again with a child’s understanding and a boy’s terrible certainty that nothing would be like it was. He had looked like that when their mother died, too, looking and hoping his big brother would know what to do to make it all right.

“Give him comfort,” Hanzo whispered. “Make sure he is not hurting.”

Genji made some unintelligible mew and then glanced at his father. His eyes grew serious and he nodded his agreement. The withered form was not their vital and forceful father, the singular uniting and driving force of the Shimada. Even he knew that the time had come for good-byes.

There was a long period of silence and almost contemplative meditation. Sojiro was under a deep and dreamless sleep, and both men simply sat there, holding the limp hands as the world was measured in beeps and clicks and the soft sounds of IV drips as it pumped medicines and liquids. Respiratory therapists came in with a floating cart and strapped a breathing mask on, administered a mist of medicine, and then made notes on the charts before leaving again. Nurses briskly walked past and Omnic medical machines hummed as they went past the door. The guards—burly Shimada men in spotless suits—shifted and were changed, glancing respectfully at them before vanishing and being replaced.

It didn’t matter if it was ten minutes or ten hours later. Hanzo was just about asleep in the chair when there was a soft sound and Sojiro’s eyes flicked open. He hacked and coughed, kicking weakly as his lungs tried to clear. The cough stopped as swiftly as it started, leaving the older man panting.

“What are you two s-s-still doing here?!” he whispered sarcastically. “Can’t resist... staring at a dying man?!”

Genji snorted in return, “More like you wouldn’t let go of our hands, Father.”

“Ehhh, young pup—if you can’t escape my grasp, then... you deserve to be pinned.”

“You are still strong,” Hanzo murmured.

Sojiro sighed sleepily and shrugged. A few minutes later, he sighed again, “I dreamed of...of your mother. That she was waiting... for me. She had some tea and my favorite t-t-treat—a chocolate mochi....”

His sons had no idea what to say to that, only smiled and nodded. They waited as he seemed to be resting and then he continued. “Tell me, did you really both say you had women? Serious relationships? Or did I d-d-dream that, too?”

Genji giggled nervously. “We said it. A blonde for me and a brunette for Hanzo.”

“A doctor, Genji?”

“Yes, Father.”

“What’s her name?” He snorted and coughed heavily. “I want to tell you... your mother.... When I see her.” He coughed again, making the monitors beep. “You know she will ask over and over... until I tell her.”

Genji turned red and glanced nervously at his brother. “She is.... Her name is ‘Mercy’—‘Jihi’—and she would.... She would tell us that we should let you rest.”

His eyes flicked sideways to Hanzo. “And yours?”

Hanzo nodded stiffly. “Her name is a..a French name. She is called—.”

“French?”

He flushed and nodded. “Belle,” he slurred. “I found it easier to call her ‘Kirenia’.”

Sojiro’s nod was short and his eyes narrowed with a smirk. “And she... does not mind?” Hanzo shook his head and he jerked as his father waved irritably. “You do not get to name her... l-l-like a dog! I r-r-raised you—.”

“Better than that,” Genji interrupted with a sarcastic grin. “I know, but Hanzo still forgets, ehh, Father?”

Hanzo growled playfully at his brother. “I have already explained to her the... difficulties of the language. She has accepted it.”

“Do you suppose she has given him the battle, only to win the war?” Genji laughed.

Sojiro sighed again and relaxed in the pillows. “I s-s-suppose that... it was too much... to hope for... Japanese women.” He smirked slightly, his eyes closing. “You mother will... be asking so many... questions. What do they do? Who... are their... parents?”

Hanzo shook to see the strain on his father’s face and he strained to put the best spin he could. He couldn’t bear it if his father began lecturing about making an advantageous marriage. “If... I am lucky enough to marry Kirenia, then we will have extra ways to secure citizenship and visas. Her acceptance will move us forward and give us more favor in the process than I could do by myself in years.” He swallowed heavily and tried to force his eyes to be clear. “She is beautiful and dutiful and.... You can tell Mother that.”

Sojiro stared up at him and nodded blankly. He closed his eyes again, as if he was about to sleep and then nodded again. “Hanzo, when are....” He waited a moment and then continued speaking. “Your mother... she is waiting for me. She says... my tea is getting... cold.” With eyes still closed, his voice dropped to a whisper. “She... says, ‘A doctor—?’. Th-that you will need a doc-tor as... as much as you g-get bruised and b-b-beaten.

“And H-h-hanzo... do not... hurt Kirenia.” He coughed heavily. “She is... innocent. Mother says to... be careful with her.” Hanzo nodded and squeezed his father’s hand. “Your mother... is always right... about these things, Hanzo.”

Sojiro smirked and shifted in the sheets and seemed to be sleepily headed off to dreamland. Hanzo settled back in his chair, ready to wait for a while as the nurse came in again. She checked the monitors again and murmured to them. She asked if they were okay as she made some slight adjustment to the medications. Of course, they were fine, and she vanished again.

An hour later, Sojiro rallied weakly again. “Your mother. I must go to her.”

“O-o-of course, Father,” Hanzo nodded.

“She will be furious if you let your tea get cold.”

Sojiro sniffed in what might have been a laugh. “My brother and father and mother... are there too.” One eye opened slightly and saw nothing in front of him and closed again. “They... they are singing and... there is food and sake. And all the dragons....”

He said nothing else, only seemed to slide into sleep. Genji went to the door and slid it closed and dimmed the lights, before returning to his place. Finally, there was a heavy, deep breath—almost a snore—and a fine mist of light glittered above the oyabun before it swirled and the dragon drifted into a wall to disappear.

What happened next was too hard. The monitors began blaring and nurses and doctors stormed in. Genji and Hanzo both stood, shoulder to shoulder, and pushed them back. Sojiro’s peaceful face was enough to convince them that there should be no attempts to revive him and pull him back from the happy reunion with his long lost kin.


	12. Chapter 12

The funeral arrangements were largely a blur. Hanzo managed to carry out his father’s wishes, hear his father’s last will and testament, and set the date for the first meeting of the elders almost without realizing it. It was mostly settled anyway—Sojiro had never made any doubts that Hanzo would be in charge, with Genji at his side.

The evening before the meeting with the elders, Genji found his brother in their father’s office with their father’s favorite hyotan—the sake bottle made from a gourd. In the bottom was a delicate carving of the swirling dragon crest and the silk cords around one of the narrow places was well worn with frequent use. His brother drank a deep swallow, ignoring Genji entirely as he carefully closed the door behind him.

“Hey...not so fast,” Genji quipped softly. “That stuff will hit your head soon enough.”

Hanzo shrugged and took another drink. “You should go.”

“Umm... I wanted to see if you wanted me to be there—this once. For support.” Hanzo’s eyes were red and his face was pale except for his nose. “I mean, we’re still going through with it, but... if it would help—.”

Hanzo shook his head wearily. “Go. Get to America and start on our plan.” His watery grin spoke volumes. “It will only incite their wrath more if you miss this.”

“Yeah—with you as the target.”

Hanzo snorted and nodded, “I know they will be angry. They will tell me again to go after you and bring you back. And in America, close to Dorado, you will...go.” He shrugged. “I will tell them I killed you, but that I could not bring back your body.”

“Overwatch is already in position,” Genji whispered. “And they have armor that will cover me from head to foot. Voice synthesizers and enhancers and the works.” Hanzo nodded and took another drink. “And we get to control the narrative on the Shimada-kai.” He shrugged easily. “Not to mention occasionally a little information.”

Hanzo nodded again. “And I will be here each year on the anniversary, for you to tell me...—to find me.” He shrugged idly and switched to the hand language, “But we must always assume we are being watched.”

Genji signed back, “Always.”

“I will take care,” he muttered. Sojiro’s office was thickly padded and soundproofed for just such conversations. “Especially since we must convince all the elders that we are feuding and you are gone.” He signed, “We must be sure they are convinced.”

Genji grinned wearily. “You can have some time to go back to the little woman, huh? Make sure she’s okay?”

Hanzo glowered up at him and grunted, “And make her a target? I’m...thinking about that. You should worry about your Jihi—unless she is another of your wild stories?”

He seemed to straighten and his easy smirk fell. His voice was suddenly low and serious. “She’s real enough. The only problem is that she doesn’t trust me and is skeptical of me joining Overwatch.” He could only give a half smirk. “She believes that I’m trouble.”

Hanzo only nodded. At his wave, his brother backed out, and he was alone in his father’s office. He stared at the place he had known since he was old enough to toddle in to look for his busy father. There was the old bonsai on the chest that he had almost killed when he pulled it down in a temper tantrum over whether or not he could play in here. There was the abacus from Sojiro’s grandfather on the wall. The desk was old and the edges were worn from generations of Shimadas sitting here and conducting the business of the clan.

Supposedly, the walls had been laden with valuables and the safe behind the painting had once held gold and wealth. Little by little, the antiques had been sold or traded when times were lean and the wealth and gold been used to make payments. So now was a room that was “austere” or “spartan”, rather than “threadbare”.

He tied the gourd to his obj and rose to his feet. He walked out of the office and to the hallway. There Genji was just coming out in a flashy suit. With all the solemnity he could manage, he nodded to the servants who would be convenient witnesses and then ‘reminded’ his brother of the meeting of elders. Immediately, Genji burst into an angry rant—why in the name of heaven was he expected to go to a boring meeting so soon after losing his father?!—and stomped down another hallway.

Hanzo sighed patiently as the older servants nearby clucked their tongues and tutted at the wild behavior of his brother. He estimated that within the hour, everyone would be gossiping that Genji was out partying rather than attending to family business. He saw Shimada Yoshi—a cantankerous old elder that even Sojiro had lost patience with—staring at him speculatively, but then cluck his tongue and a shake of his head before turning to go down a hallway.

Good.

He was almost removed as the elders assembled to meet him as the oyabun for the first time. They gave him their formal condolences and acknowledged him as the leader. They began discussing the business of the clan, the losses and profits of the quarter. It was a slow quarter, but the protection money was collected and deposited. Their investments in two Hong Kong casinos and, of course, Shogan’s Palace in the distant United States, were showing the best profits.

As they were going over a new potential investment in another club—a casino and hotel for a more modest budget and geared more towards couples—a servant bustled in anxiously. He raised his hand and everyone went silent. The servant bowed low again and again, apologizing for interrupting, but Master Genji was in trouble and someone needed to go to the police station.

Hanzo sighed and nodded, rising and apologizing to the assembled elders. They seemed to be surprised and dismayed and anxious and a bit angry. He asked for their indulgence to allow him time to address the problem. He offered them refreshments until he returned and then left with expected haste.

Genji was in the alley that they had arranged for their meeting, talking with the policeman he had bribed to make the call to his brother. The policeman nodded at them and left, drifting back into the foot traffic at the end of the alley. They both vanished behind the dumpsters and a few carefully placed boards that provided them a place to hide from casual eyes until the car and driver Hanzo summoned appeared and the crowds built up a bit.

Hanzo drank and Genji played on his game without really noticing each other. After about three quarters of an hour later, they blasted out, stomping and cursing. Hanzo growled at Genji about duty and honor and responsibility. Genji snarled back that it wasn’t fair, that their father had just died and he was young. People stared, some taking pictures from their phones, as their argument went into the street. More began to chatter as their loud argument began to slide towards raised fists. A beat cop watched them from a distance with a look of anxious dismay.

Genji pushed away and shouted, “Fuck you, Hanzo! I don’t have to!”

“You will return to Hanamura and do your duty,” Hanzo roared back.

“I don’t have to. You’re not the boss of me,” Genji growled as he lunged in with a punch.

Hanzo shuffled back with a dramatic look of pain. Holding the shoulder Genji had only grazed, he tripped his brother and slammed him against the wall of a nearby building. He shuffled to the side, certain at least one person was filming it. “You will return to Hanamura now and do your duty!”

They wrestled and finally, Hanzo tossed his brother in the waiting car. He snarled at the driver to get started already. Genji roared and cursed at him, rocking the car as they wrestled more in the back. At a stoplight, Genji kicked Hanzo in the face—the chauffeur gasped to see it in the rear view mirror—and then leapt out of the door to disappear in the crowd.

Hanzo cursed and fumed as he disappeared into the crowd. Finally, he directed the car to continue. As the car drove, he checked his phone and saw an anonymous email saying ‘You may have already have won. Reply ‘YES’ to 98893 to get more details.’ and he sighed heavily.

The charade had begun.

The elders were milling about the gardens, enjoying the mild evening air, as he returned. With a bowed head, he said, “Genji has.... He will not be joining us after all.”

One of the elders snorted and snapped in return, “He has never performed his duties—.”

“Do not say never,” grunted another one. “He did a reasonable job in the casinos.”

“He needs to do his duty! He needs to be here!” bellowed a third voice.

That set them all to muttering sourly. Hanzo scowled and grunted, “He is... missing. With Sojiro’s death—.”

“Even before Sojiro’s death, he was wild and reckless,” snarled the first elder. “And we need both of the Shimada Dragons if we are to keep our wealth and prosperity.” Others began nodding in agreement. All of their eyes turned towards Hanzo. “You need to bring him back! I, for one, will not pledge my allegiance to you if you can’t bring him in line.”

At the suddenly overwhelming chorus of agreement, Hanzo backed up a step. Finally, he nodded and bowed, “The will of the clan is my will.”


	13. Chapter 13

Hanzo got his things together and began tracking his brother. He took three men to the corner where Genji had disappeared. They began asking questions, trying to track the wily son. After midnight, Hanzo let the men go home as the trail led them to the airport. He kept up the appearance of the chase, arriving at Hanamura before dawn, collecting a small suitcase and a duffle bag of his things, and leaving things in the hands of one of his cousins until he returned with Genji—dead or alive.

He took the next flight to Seattle, starting up his investigations there. A few remembered seeing a tall Japanese man with a shock of green hair, but no one could say where he went. A few days later, he began a southeastward trek towards Nevada. He would stop every so often to ask a few questions and report back to Hanamura that his pursuit was going well and that he would soon have the traitor Genji in hand.

As he hit the Nevada state line, he paused at a rest stop to grab a bottle of water and something to eat. Unfortunately, as he hit the brick building with a pocket full of change, he realized that he was no longer in Japan. There was only a singular snack vending machine, two coffee machines (both broken), a machine that spat out paper maps of the state, and two soda machines (one broken) with the most ghastly selection of sodas. As he stared at the yellowed, cracked plastic buttons with their soda logos, he realized how much he missed Japan.

He already missed having spare, simple meals that weren’t swimming in cheese or dairy. He missed really fresh sushi and miso soup. He missed the all-night ramen restaurants. He missed having hot green tea with every meal. He missed dumplings and mochi and yellow pickles and sake. He missed cool breezes and the scent of apricots and sakura and incense.

He missed Japanese vending machines. Somewhere along the way, Japan had made vending machines an art form and he could buy just about anything from them—cigarettes, wine, beer, hot ramen, bouquets of flowers, rice balls, small electronics of every kind, even bento boxes. And they were everywhere—every train station, every airport and every rest stop. A person could travel across Japan and get just about anything they needed from a vending machine right there where they needed it.

The least foul choice seemed to be a generic grape soda. He had yet to find anywhere in America that did justice to green tea. Even the high end bookstores and coffee shops that claimed to have good tea didn’t. The can rattled out of the machine and was mildly cooler than the air around him.

He slid back into the nondescript rental car and kept driving. So far, he had convinced Hanamura that it was best for him to trail Genji alone. A single man in the Great Melting Pot would attract less notice than a troop of them. Not to mention that he was already cleared with work visas and so on. It was cheaper, too—always a point in this plan’s favor.

He had to admit, as he drove down a long stretch of road, that he didn’t miss sushi or sashimi or ramen or even good green tea as much as he missed Belle. Even the thought that he was driving closer to her was enough to make his heart pound. He missed her laugh. He missed the way her forehead crinkled when she was busy writing that report. He missed the lazy end of each day when they would drink tea together and then wash the teacups she bought him. He missed the way she would ask about his day as if he was an ordinary businessman. He missed her more than he had words to say.

Hanzo kept driving as the sun went westward. It was not hard to follow the trail Genji had laid—especially since he was leading Hanzo exactly to where they were supposed to go. They would meet west of Hiko where they would be alone in the Humboldt-Toiyabe National Forest wilderness for their “final fight” where a body could be reasonably “lost” and whoever he had contact with would not be easily followed.

He kept driving, relieved that it would soon be over. After all this, he could head south, then, into Vegas with its livid night lights and to the cool, calm sanctuary that was Belle and the Shogun’s Palace. He might have worried he’d never see Genji again, but they had made arrangements for that, too. In a year, he would go to the shrine at Hanamura and they would meet, and Genji would never miss that date.

Hanzo was bone tired when he finally got to the state park. Peculiarly, the campgrounds were packed with tents and vehicles, but no campers were walking the trails and no dusty children were on the playground. The ranger stations were also better manned than they might otherwise be. He replied ‘YES’ to the silly message and was given a code. When he was stopped by a uniformed officer on the dirt road, he showed the code and was waved through.

At the end of the road, another uniformed individual stopped him, waving him to park on the shoulder. He pulled out his duffle and began walking. He stuck to the trees, anxiously glancing around as the few deceptively un-uniformed people seemed to vanish as he kept walking. He was alone in this forest, now.

At dusk, he had the first sign—a pair of Y shaped branches where one leg of each Y was touching the other to form a crude ‘S’—and he kept walking. Thankfully, he had water packed as he kept going along the rocky trail. Evening began to turn the forest into shadows as he sweated and dug out a flashlight and kept going.

At full dark, he stopped at the next twig ‘S’. This was as far as he could get today. If things went well, he would have a day’s hike back. Then he would drive to the Palace and rest. He would order tea—real green tea—and spend the day with Belle. Still, in this isolated place, he knew he couldn’t afford to become complacent. He drew dark silk thread over the ground, hanging small bells around the spiderweb to detect intruders and prepared himself for possible attack. He wrapped in a black mylar emergency blanket rather than draw attention with a fire and counted the stars in the sky and the ways he wanted to spoil his patient beauty.

Before dawn, he jolted awake. For some reason, he was sure that he was being watched. That someone was waiting for him to move. Slowly, he drew one of his many hidden knives, certain that he was being covertly threatened.

Nothing happened for a half hour or more. Pink filled the sky and he finally sat up. No one seemed to be anywhere close. He pulled himself upright and began packing. It wasn’t until he was putting the bells away that he saw his brother, perched on a tree branch.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” Genji quipped.

“Good morning, Genji,” he sighed.

Genji looked around at the forest with a nod. “Good place for a fight, ehh?”

Hanzo nodded slowly, waving him down. They paused there, lighting a stick of incense and kneeling. Whether they were mourning their father, their lost boyhood, praying for success or for their clan, neither could say. Still, it seemed peculiarly appropriate to spend a bit of time in quiet reflection.

They stood up as the stick finally turned to ash. Genji bowed towards the forest as reverently as if he were in a temple. “It really is beautiful out here, Hanzo.”

“It is.”

“Are you...content here, anija?”

Hanzo looked around at the deep forest. “I could be.”

Genji tilted his head and seemed to think about that. “I hope you will be.” He gave a half shrug and a smirk. “I hope you will find the peace and happiness you deserve.”

Hanzo was about to answer when another Japanese voice broke in. “So, here you both are.”

They whirled around and saw the dark clothed form approaching. The cloth around his face and head made it impossible to visually see who it was, but the voice was certainly familiar despite being muffled. The stranger’s eyes crinkled as he pulled out a small ceramic pistol and pointed it at them.

“Everyone else bought your little charade. The brave Scion pursuing his reckless and dishonorable brother.” He cackled and Hanzo was sure it was Yoshi. “I wasn’t sure you were going to do it, so I followed you to be certain.”

“Look,” Genji said, raising his hands. “You’ve got this all wrong—.”

“Now you can both fight and I’ll be a satisfied witness.” He waved the little gun again. “So, go ahead. Fight it out like men, like Shimada—or I will shoot you both as traitors.”

Hanzo stepped back and Genji shuffled away to a fighting stance. They looked at each other and nodded. As one, they called their dragons and they glowing forms shot into the sky. They twisted and writhed and then looped down as if to pounce on the brothers.

Hanzo stared as his two dragons twisted above Genji and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Yoshi gaping at their beauty. With a quick gesture, he turned them towards the third man with their mouths gaping. Genji must have done the same because Hanzo felt one of the green claws brush his hair as it, too, turned at the last moment.

In an instant, it was done. Trees were splintered and trunks were shattered and the charred corpse fell to the surface like ash. The brothers blinked at each other hesitantly, staring as if they had never seen each other.

“Who...was that?” Genji whispered. “Was that really... Shimada Yoshi?”

Hanzo swallowed heavily. “He is....” He shook his head and looked up at Genji. Distantly, he could hear people walking, and the heavy static of radios. Too soon, he would need to leave and he knew he wasn’t quite ready for that. “He is you.”

“What?”

Suddenly, Hanzo laughed. “He is you. If I identify him as you, cremate him—no one will stop me.” He shook with relieved laughter. “He is you.”

Genji looked uncertainly and then nodded with a sarcastic grin. “I see, you crafty son of a bitch.”

“Leave Mother out of it, otouto,” Hanzo smirked.

Suddenly, people burst into the clearing wearing dark uniforms. The big man known as Gabriel scanned the clearing, a rifle in each hand. Glowering, he snorted and nodded at the surrounding agents and they slowly lowered their weapons.

Hanzo looked from the gigantic, dark skinned man and practically bristled at his superior height and growling countenance. Looking at his brother, he bowed and murmured, “So, this is the path you have chosen, brother?”

Genji bowed in return. “It is my path, brother. I... want a new path.”

“It is still a path of blood,” Hanzo warned gruffly. “There is still time to change your mind.”

Genji looked around, watching as the agents bustled around to find new positions in the trees. He puffed out a breath and slowly shook his head, “I am bound to my path. I....” He cocked his head thoughtfully. “The clan will go on without me there. Look on the bright side, there will be one less mouth to feed.”

“It has never been like that.”

“Han—you know as well as I that we’ve been—,” he stepped closer and his voice dropped. “We’ve been running at a loss for years and you know it. Our clan is dying and even the great Shimada Hanzo cannot hold back the ravages of time and debt.” He stepped back and laughed softly, his words only slightly louder, but still in Japanese. “Besides, we can’t have the cowboy talking too much, can we?”

Hanzo nodded with a sadly forced grin. “I suppose.”

“Hey, just listen to the corpse, huh? Take a moment, mourn my supposed loss, and get back to her.”

“Her?” Hanzo sniffled, bristling a little. “Who said anything about a girl?”

Genji shrugged playfully. “Yeah..you weren’t thinking about your Kirenia. Sure—I believe that.” As if they were still brothers, he punched Hanzo’s shoulder. “Tell her ‘Hi’ when you go running back to her.” They laughed together. “But... seriously, she’s got a good heart. She is...worthy of you.”

Hanzo could only blink in surprise and then snort. “Worthy of me?!”

“Worthy of my big brother—and I thought that someone like that didn’t exist.” He shrugged. “She is worthy of you. She is—.”

“A good woman—lawful and courageous, and probably too good for me.” He sighed and shrugged. “And for your information—I do intend on going back to her. And...to tell her the truth.”

That made the easy, ‘I told you so’ grin fall from his brother’s lips. “She.... Wait, what?!”

“I...I will tell her everything. About Father, the clan. Everything.” Hanzo shuddered as if he was eating something... distasteful. “And I will tell her that I adore her and I will hope she forgives me.”

“Forgive you?! Oh holy hell, Hanzo—she doesn’t know?! I thought you told her! Forget roses. Shit—you’re going to need like orchids and Swiss chocolates and diamonds.” He actually shuddered in return, the blood leaving his face white. “I was sure that you told her.... Fuck—the clan will miss you.”

“Oh?”

“You’re a dead man—if she talks to you ever again.”

Gabriel’s deep voice interrupted. “We need to get moving.”

Genji glanced at him and nodded. Then he glanced a last time at his brother, he whispered, “Good fortune and strong dragons follow you.”

“Good fortune and strong dragons follow you,” he murmured back.

Genji was surrounded by agents, black armored bodies surrounding him and leading him away. Hanzo stared after him, feeling the large man walk up beside him. Another moment and Genji was gone, herded into a shadowed area and disappearing from his sight. In stilted English, he muttered, “Take care of him.”

“He is officially dead,” Gabriel snorted, crossing his arms. He leaned over, craning his neck slightly. “We’ll take the body—tell everyone that we believe that this is the corpse of Genji Shimada. Immediate cremation and no one will tell the difference.

“So you gonna tell me what that was? Ain’t got nothin’ like that in the—.” He turned and glowered as Hanzo walked away. “Fuck, Shimada! You gonna answer me?! What the hell was that—?!”

Hanzo kept walking, got his things. Whatever the bigger man wanted, he didn’t care at the moment. He folded the black mylar and the bits and pieces. The body was put into a bag and zipped up and hauled away. Within minutes, the agents in their camouflage and black had melted away and as he swept the floor with a pine branch, there was no indication anyone had been there.

He crept back on foot, smirking to himself as he saw the ranger station and the heavy, windowless vehicles driving down one of the park’s gravely service roads. Soon, he was on the highway again. Reluctantly, he dialed the first number of the first elder in this contact list and hit a few extra buttons to activate the ‘extras’ on his phone.

There was a shaky voice on the other end of the line. “Who is this?”

Hanzo growled, “It is done.”

“He... The trait—?”

“It. Is. Done.” Hanzo swerved around a large white rental van. “It is done and you forced me to do it.”

The other man babbled anxiously, his voice crackling. Encrypting and decrypting over the lines always made static and wrecked the sound quality, but there was no disguising the shakiness in the reply. “Wh-wh-what?”

“Kutabare!” he screamed. “You have made me do it. And I will never forgive you!”

“Y-y-young Master! M-master!” There was a pause as he heard scrambling voices in the background. “J-j-just—well, we can talk—!” 

“As of today—,” he snapped as he glanced at the date and time display on the console, “—June tenth—you are no longer a part of the clan. You have betrayed us both—and the Shimada Sparrow paid for it.”

“Master! He was a traitor! He never would have been a faithful and—.”

“Silence! And now Genji can no longer come home because Overwatch became involved. They have taken the body and are all over the area. Did you call them? You will—!”

“O-o-overwatch?! No, we would never-!”

“Overwatch was there, and took Genji’s body.”

“We will...we will go retrieve it at...at once.”

“You have disgraced the family—the whole clan!” Hanzo snarled and felt his throat scratch with his forced anger. “And the Sparrow had to fall, did he not? Not because of anything he did, but because he was in your way. And I will suppose that I would either fall into your plans—your schemes—or I, too, will meet with some accident.

“You had better pray that I never see you again. Or I will make sure you burn in hell for this.”

He cut the connection and tossed the phone out the window. It shattered on the road and an oncoming truck rolled right over it. A large tan truck with camouflage patterned paint and huge spotlights over the cab passed him and he wanted it to be the one carrying Genji to his new life. He paced it, trailing loosely behind it as the miles disappeared. He saw the turn signal blink and then turn off, only to come on again as another green road sign passed. Then it turned away, going off the highway onto some other highway.

Hanzo nodded at it as it disappeared to an overpass. It was time to say goodbye and to go on, to travel on his path.


	14. Chapter 14

He drove for hours, speeding through the highways and around all the bustling people going to and fro. He could make out the tall hotels and almost see the glow of the lights from here. It was like burning neon in his blood. His foot felt heavy on the accelerator and he looked anxiously for the curving lines of the Shogun’s Palace distinctly Japanese roof.

He ran through the employee entrance and ducked through the back hallways to reach his elevator. Anyone who saw him would undoubtedly think he had been barbecued or something, and he didn’t need to waste time explaining or meeting anyone when he could be with Belle.

Hanzo sighed in the elevator. He smelled of ozone and the musk of his dragons like he always did when they were released. He should have called her. Or something. He should have gotten a dozen roses and some jewelry. He should have....

The penthouse suite was empty. No—it wasn’t that she was out doing things. Her room was empty. The drawers were scrubbed out. The closet was barren. Even her pink satin slippers with the floaty bits of marabou across the toes were not under the edge of the bed.

He ran to the bedroom he had claimed. A few things were there—the bits and pieces he had left behind when he had made his mad dash to his father’s bedside. A pile of letters and mail was carefully set on the table. The dust had been cleaned up, the kitchen cleaned, the sheets changed and the towels washed, but nothing else was disturbed and there was still no sign of her.

He even staggered to the bedroom Genji had used. It was the exact way they had left it. The stack of girlie magazines and manga comics was still on the bedside table. The flashy suits were still in the closet, along with the slickly polished hard-soled shoes. His games and electronic systems were whirring softly underneath the huge television. He had even left behind that strange, stuffed, smiling tentacled onion toy he had kept for years and years and named ‘Pachimari’.

He picked up the worn stuffed toy and inexplicably hugged it tight. A slight whiff of the incense and the lime aftershave his brother liked puffed up as he crushed the toy to his chest. The penthouse was still opulent and luxurious. It was pleasantly cool and comfortable. Every material thing—well, almost every material thing—was here. Anything he lacked, he could call down and get delivered to his door. He had always been surrounded by nice things, all kinds of things, but now he couldn’t help but feel impoverished and hollow inside.

Hanzo held it tighter, burying his nose into the threadbare velveteen fabric.

Everything was gone. Everyone was gone. His father was gone. His brother was gone. He had no one waiting for him. No one was eager to see him. No one was here in his palace of hundreds of people that looked forward to seeing him.

And he was alone now.

He couldn’t move and couldn’t stop from moving. He couldn’t stop himself from walking to the bathroom as he cradled the onion. Hanzo dropped it on the counter and began peeling off the sticky, sweaty and dirty clothes. As he grabbed a towel and peeled down his pants, his gaze turned towards the onion.

The black embroidered eyes stared at him as the smile never moved. With a nervous chuckle—exhaustion would make anyone feel strange—he turned the face around. Then, with a nervous start, he stared at the smiling face in the mirror. The damn thing was looking at him and laughing at his maudlin mood. With a jerk, he dropped a hand towel over the face. 

He showered in a hurry, pulling on some sturdy clothes without looking into the foggy mirror. Grabbing the onion, he went back to his bedroom. Opening his computer, he logged in and typed furiously. A few minutes later, he had funneled all of his personal accounts into a new bank under a new name, as well as his year’s salary. He wrote a short letter—his senior vice president was in charge and he was quitting to go back to Japan after the death of his father and brother and the penthouse was to be cleaned out and everything given to Goodwill—and printed it out on the printer in his office, along with an email to his secretary, his personal assistants and, lastly, his unwitting senior vice president.

Marginally cleaner, he stomped and scowled to his office, signed the letter and used the small soapstone stamp to make his mark on the crisp paper. The little red block stamp was a traditional touch as he broke with his past. He folded the letter up and put it into an envelope to leave for his staff, and was surprised to see one of his assistants picking up her purse and phone to get ready to leave.

“Sir! No one had said you’d be back today.” She sat everything down and swallowed heavily. “Will you be needing me to take dictation or to—?”

“Nothing tonight,” he murmured, shaking his head.

She broke out into a huge, relieved smile and nodded eagerly. “Of...of course, sir. Have a nice weekend, then.” She thought for a moment and then pulled a package out of her desk. “This came for you.”

He grunted sourly at the small box, with his name on it, care of Shogun’s Palace, but the return address was a post office box from the small office down the block. “What is it?”

She blushed and shrugged, “I don’t know, sir. It arrived while you were gone. Security has scanned it already and it has been here a few days.”

He jostled the box and heard nothing. “Thank you.” He shrugged and handed her the letter. “Give this to Monroe tomorrow.”

“Of course, sir,” she chirped. “I will take care of it.”

He was already out and headed towards the elevators. He stopped at the security office to retrieve a large leather case that still had the small, discrete badge of the Tokyo University Kyudo Team on it. Then he shoved the box in his duffle bag and carried them out to the cheap rental vehicle that was waiting for him.

He drove and drove and every mile was like water washing away everything he had ever held dear in his heart. He didn’t even know which way he was going, only that he was driving into darkness where nothing could hurt him. He had killed, he had maimed and hurt and had been a gangster—one of the leading, untouchable criminals in all of Japan—and not one person except for his brother had ever looked forward to seeing him.

The brother he might not see again except in passing.

He stopped and pulled out a pair of bills and filled up his gas tank and stopped to get a couple of candy bars and an obscenely large cup of coffee. Then he was on the road again, driving nowhere. He told himself that it didn’t matter where he went since he had a whole year before he was going to go back and see Genji and Hanamura again. He told himself that he had always wanted to see the world, that he needed some time to himself.

He pulled over and parked under a bridge when he realized he couldn’t see the white line down the middle of the road anymore. He rummaged around in his bag to find a shirt or something that he could ball up under his head and his fingers hit the paper and tape wrapped package. Whatever was Genji was thinking to send it to him so soon? But still, it was probably important, so he supposed he should open it.

He ripped open the tape and tore the paper and laughed at the bright pink shoebox. Genji must have gone to the boutique downstairs to get the box. It still didn’t rattle when he shook it, so he peeled off the tape carefully and he let out an exhausted giggle at the thick wad of bubble wrap. (Genji always loved popping bubblewrap.) He slid the rickety seat back and unwrapped the layers of plastic, occasionally ripping the tape that held it together. Whatever Genji had sent must be fragile indeed with all this.

The fragile glazed teacup slid out of the wrappings and into his shaking palms. The painted sakura branches were as brilliant as when Belle had brought it to him. He knew that there was a ceramicist in the Palace, but he hadn’t paid much attention to the wares before she brought him these. She must have been psychic to know how much he loved the delicate beauty of the flowers. How he bemoaned every year that he missed the cherry blossom festivals because it was always during the busy spring break weeks when the Palace was filled to capacity. So, he had loved the teacups, even though he was supposed to be above that.

There was a small piece of folded paper—ripped from a notebook—with her swirling handwriting. Hanzo stared at it without reading it for a few moments. His hands shook slightly to hold both the note and the fragile cup. She had thought enough of him to tell him goodbye, to give him a small gift she had picked out. She had written a note to him.

He set the cup on his dashboard before he dropped it.

No one had given him something they picked out in years. He had gotten a few gifts—professionally picked out by a personal shopper or something tasteful ordered from a website and delivered pre-wrapped and with a tasteful, laser printed card wishing him impersonally well. And the gifts were boring in the extreme—fountain pens, business card holders, or ties—rather than so meaningful and....

He sobbed into the paper like he never had when his father died or when Genji had walked away. It felt so good to just rage, that he almost didn’t stop. A car blew past with long honks of its horn and that jarring sound pulled him to stop. He stared at the wet drops that smeared the ink on the paper.

“My darling, I do not know what to tell you. I don’t know what to tell you, what I should say. I have never known what to say or how you even noticed me. You came into my life like a prince in a fairy story. I would have been so screwed without you. I thought we had something amazing together.

“And then Jesse called me. He said to look up you and your family. And then I found out. I kept looking, kept reading and I couldn’t stop. I guess you didn’t tell me because you thought I’d freak out. I tried to figure it out, to figure out an explanation.

“I do love you, but I don’t know how to cope with it. I don’t think I could be a gangster’s wife. I don’t think I can wait for you and wonder if you’re okay. I can’t spend all my nights praying you won’t be killed. I don’t know how.

“Thank you for the most magical time of my life. I only wish I could repay you.”


	15. Chapter 15

Uncounted days later, Belle struggled to hold the heavy tray as her stomach heaved. She had gotten out of Vegas—and not much further—before she had given up. So she had gone to the first Help Wanted sign at this greasy spoon, applied for whatever job they could give her and then hocked the necklace Hanzo had given her, used the money to rent a small bedroom from an old woman—ironically, her boss from the diner—with three cats, and attempted to settle into the small town life.

It was surprising to feel at last settled, independent, and sufficient. Why had she assumed that she needed Jesse to handle things? She had a small bedroom and adjoining bath and, with a mailing address, she had the ability to get mail and apply for a driver’s license and a hundred other mundane details. She could get to work by walking down the street which was not only a saving from not having a car and driving, but it was also healthy. So she was now gainfully employed and had a small income so she could get a good start.

She had been in Mrs. Trumval’s small apartment for several weeks and had settled into a routine. On Monday, the diner’s blue plate special was fried chicken with corn on the cob and she would take home a meal and walk to the tiny corner grocery store to get eggs, bread, milk and orange juice along with a package of whatever deli meat was on sale. Tuesday’s meal was a slice of meatloaf and macaroni and cheese and she would walk to the library with her books. Wednesday was lasagna and she would go get a boxed salad and a bag of apples and a bunch of bananas. Thursday was a potluck—whatever the cook cooked because there was only about seven or eight people coming in—and she could walk around the park. Friday was a fish fry—choice of cod or catfish or haddock—with slaw and fries and two hush puppies and she could use the washing machine and clothes lines to dry her clothes. Saturday was burgers and she could sleep late. Sunday’s meal was a roast meat—a rotation of beef, chicken or turkey—with mashed potatoes and green beans. And since Mrs. Trumval owned the diner—her late husband was the Joe in “Joe’s Diner”—she could insist that Belle ate the blue plate special each day.

Unfortunately, she seemed to have picked up something. It was nothing—just a general weariness and a malaise and a bit of bloating—but she didn’t feel good either. Despite doing her best to eat well and exercise, she was still worn out. She still had a chunk of money from the sale of the necklace, but she wanted some kind of savings.

Of course, Joe’s diner was one of the few places to eat and nearly on top of the local OmniCorp factory, so on busy nights she was running the length of the diner practically nonstop. Everyone flooded in to get slices of Mrs. Turnval’s special, homemade pie, with locally made ice cream on top, too. So Belle kept going, scooping up her tips and ignoring her aching body.

She was still running back and forth with trays of plates of fried fish and tall glasses of sweet tea and lemonade when her stomach lurched and she felt her bile rise. Mumbling, she gave the tray to Mrs. Turnval and raced again to the bathroom. The tiny tiled room was scented with potpourri and she belched in the toilet. It was horrific feeling with her acid reflux burning her throat.

There was a knock at the door and she heard Mrs. Turnval’s soft voice. “Are you all right, sweetie?”

“Sure—fine.”

“All right—if you say so. Table 9 wants three slices of pie when you come out.”

Belle nodded and washed up. The cool water felt like ice and was a relief. She shuddered, staggering upright to go back to work. The loud bells in the diner door clanged as she splashed water on her face.

Her whole body drooped as she came out. As much as she hated the thought of spending any of her nest egg, she had to admit that she needed to go to a doctor. She picked up the tray of pie slices and carried them to table 9. The Smithsons always got pie for dessert if their two girls didn’t fuss about eating the vegetables—and they tipped well. Belle swayed slightly to the piped in classical harpsichord and violin music as she slid the plates in front of Mary and Chichi and mentally counted up the tips that she was sure she could get. Mrs. Turnval came behind her with a tray for table 10 and Belle dodged her to pick up the dirty dishes.

They both hauled trays of dirty dishes to the back of the kitchen. The large man in the t-shirt and denim pants with an apron who answered only to “Cookie” had his wild red hair in a glistening white hair net was scrubbing the grill as they began stacking plates in the dishwasher. Mrs. Turnval reached for the dial on the music receiver and Cookie didn’t even look up, but only said, “Don’t change my music.”

She sighed, “All right, Cookie. That was the last ticket anyway.”

He kept scrubbing and didn’t even look up. “Good night tonight. We need to have more pie tomorrow.”

“I’ll fix some extra coffee tomorrow.” She turned glanced at Belle. “You good with coming in early—?” The bells over the door chimed and the older lady cursed. “Well, hells bells—!”

“Language,” snapped Cookie as he wiped his heavy spatula.

“I must of forgotten to turn off the open sign when I came back here,” she muttered sourly. “I’ll go take care of whoever it is if you wash the dishes.”

Belle nodded and rubbed he lower back. She continued stacking dishes even though she was sure her eyes would cross if she even touched another dish. Not to mention wiping down the soda machines and the ice bins and mopping the floors and cleaning the tables.... Her day was far from done.

She loaded the large trays into the dishwasher and started it with a whoosh of steam and noise. Turning around, she saw Cookie staring at her speculatively. He finally grinned his snaggletoothed grin and said, “So you need orange juice. Vitamins.”

“What are you talking about, Cookie?” she laughed anxiously.

He shrugged and looked over at the small printer as it spat out a white ticket with a new order on it. Almost idly, he pulled out one of the steaks and began a steak and eggs plate. Belle automatically put in some toast and put some tomato slices on the plate. As he scattered some hashbrowned potatoes on the hot grill, he replied, “My sister needed vitamins and the doctors had her drinking orange juice all the time. Get some hot water, eh? We need hot tea for this ticket.” Belle grabbed a slick ceramic cup and saucer and put it on a saucer with a paper wrapped teabag. “So, you’re going to Dr. Jarvis—and she’ll tell you to drink orange juice and take vitamins. You get plenty of exercise but she’ll also tell you to eat lots of veggies. Tell Widow Turnval and she’ll make sure you get a salad—.”

Belle stared at him as he idly cracked eggs and flipped the potatoes. “What?”

Finally he turned to her with an impatient smirk. “You’re pregnant, right?” Her face went white as he turned back to the grill to move the steak around. “It’s not my business, but I think that you need to take care of her. Him. It. Them. Something!”

“Pregnant?!”

“Yeah. My older sister didn’t want kids, but my baby sister lost her husband in the Omnic Crisis and came to live with Pa and Ma and I. She got a little anemic, too—but she was carrying twins—and Dr. Jarvis delivered my nephew and my two nieces.” He cocked his head. “You are keeping it?”

Belle gaped. Hanzo’s baby was there—she was sure of it. Hanzo who disappeared to Japan. Hanzo who had a long tattoo down one arm and a brother named Genji and who took her into his life and made her feel comfortable and loved.

Hanzo who was a wanted criminal.

She blankly put the things on the tray—medium rare steak with over easy eggs, crispy hash browns, sliced tomatoes and hot tea—and carried it out. Abruptly she wove and almost dropped the tray.

There was Hanzo in the red padded seat. Her eyes misted over to see him. She didn’t even notice that she nearly collided with Mrs. Turnval or that the small side plate of tomatoes almost slid off the edge or that Mr. and Mrs. Smithson looked at them both knowingly and shooed their girls out the door.

Blindly, she pulled the dishes off the tray and they clattered as she set them down. He smirked up at her and just as she picked up the teacup, his hand came up and hit it. The cup shot out of her hand and shattered on the tile floor.

“Oh! I’m sorry!” Belle muttered automatically.

“Never mind,” he whispered. “I have another.”

His hand went inside his duffle beside him and pulled out a teacup. The teacup. Her eyes went wide and all the blood drained to her feet. The entire room went fuzzy and dimmed and she fell against the seat opposite Hanzo.

Immediately, the diner was in an uproar. Mrs. Turnval ran to get ice water and a cool cloth. Hanzo leapt to his feet and around the booth, sending the tomatoes plummeting to the floor with another crash. Even Cookie came out with a knowing grin, wiping his spatula nonchalantly with his cloth.

Belle only felt clear-headed when Hanzo put his arm around her and helped her sit in the booth. She took the water and sipped it, looking up at him with watery eyes. “You’re really here?”

He nodded with a small grin. “I hope my appearance is not so...?”

“N-n-no. You’re really here? Really.” She blindly reached for his hand, gratified when he took it. “It’s been so long.”

“Ten weeks, three days,” he murmured, sliding in beside her. Cookie silently slid a tall, frosty glass of orange juice in front of her and then backed away when Hanzo glowered furiously at him. “Too much time.”

She leaned against him as he pulled the plate closer to her. “And you were gone. You were so gone and it was so fast and I never heard from you.”

He sighed and nodded. “I know. I tried.... My message said I would return.” Ever so gently, he kissed her hair. “As soon as I could, I came back...but you were gone.” His voice dropped to a shivering whisper that made Belle’s toes curl and a shiver go down her spine. “And no one was saying why?”

She burst out into tears. Cookie sighed and took out a to-go cup and filled it with orange juice and somehow had a bag of food that he passed to Hanzo and then pointed to the door. Hanzo took the bag and slung his duffle over his shoulder and led her out.

“Do you have somewhere to go?” he whispered.

“I got an apartment.” She flinched as the massive neon sign outside and the brilliant ‘Open’ sign in the window went dark. “I didn’t know what to do. I was so...so afraid. A-a-and Jesse called and had me look online, and I saw you and Genji and...and.... I was so confused. I was frightened and it—.”

“Gentle Kirenia—take me to your place and we will speak.” He glanced over his shoulder and saw Mrs. Turnval and Cookie unashamedly staring at them through the windows. Cookie gave him a lazy thumbs up and tugged on her arm, pulling her away from the window long enough to put a mop in her hand. He nodded his thanks and turned back to Belle. “Just take me a step nearer. One step.” She shuddered and took a single step. “Good. Now another.”

Slowly, he coaxed her down the darkened street of the sleepy town. “You are doing fine. Just do not move too fast. We can go at your speed. Just as we did before—at your speed.”

She nodded slowly, taking one slow step at a time and babbling at the same time. “You were gone and I never got a chance to even say good-bye. And I was worried about you and I heard nothing. And your father was sick and then...I didn’t hear anything. I am so worried and scared and now you’re suddenly here. And where is everyone? Where is Genji?”

He sighed, looking at the sprawling two story rancher house next she stopped at. With the gray split level fence around a small yard with two wide oak trees that shaded a small goldfish pond and a porch swing swaying in the night air, he almost envied.... This was somewhere he could see a normal family enjoying. There were wide yards around every house here, but no gates or guarded fences or walls.

Belle had stopped, and she gestured lamely at the house. “Mrs. Turnval rents the top floor to me and I have a...a....”

“We should sit by the—,” he stopped and grimaced. He was too used to giving orders. He had to remember he was no longer in charge, in command. “Could we sit by the fish pond?”

She nodded slowly. “There’s some benches under the tree there.”

Hanzo took her hand and followed her to the bench. He was literally biting his tongue, trying to avoid barking commands, to avoid trying to overwhelm her. It was vital that she understand that...that she was safe and could trust him. It gnawed at his core in a vital, painful way that her trust had been shaken so badly. He should have taken better care of her.

If only Genji was here. He was absolutely infuriatingly gifted with a tongue that could sing sparrows from the trees and tempt poets to tears. Instead, he was here with nothing. “Speak to me, Kirenia.”

“I mi-mi-missed you!” she wailed.

“My yukan’na on’nanoko,” he whispered as he wrapped his arm over her shoulders. “You faced it all when you were by yourself.” He felt thankful beyond belief when she leaned against him. “Can you speak now? Or should I bid you good-night?”

Belle suddenly laughed in shrill tones that cracked his nerves. “I am so scared. And I didn’t know what to do.” Hanzo handed her a handkerchief and the cup of juice. “Thanks, but I guess that I should ask what you’re doing here. Where’s Genji?”

Hanzo sighed and leaned closer to her. “We can.... We should speak of that...perhaps tomorrow.” He flushed even in the darkness, unsure how to say that Genji was as good as dead but that he lived behind the mask of an Omnic machine. “What of you? You are not sick, are you? You... you fainted. My heart near stopped.”

She nodded and her voice went so soft he needed to practically lay on top of her to hear her. “I guess I’m okay. Just tired and confused. All I heard was...that he was sick. And then Jesse called. He said—. I didn’t know...anything about you. And when he said to look you up—and I did—and I couldn’t look away. I just couldn’t.”

He nodded and sighed. “I was...afraid of that. I was afraid that you would find out... about me. My family. That.... We were.... It is not... not hard to figure out, I suppose. I wish I could say that it was not what you think.

“The clan is.... It had a... a good past as we measure such things. But things are changing. And they are not so.... They do not....” He sighed and cuddled her closer—close enough that she strained to hear him. “I have abandoned them. I have given them a good story—that Genji and I have fought and I murdered him—so they do not chase us.”

She caught her breath, stopping every movement. He took heart in that small stillness—that she was not rejecting him. Very slowly, he continued, “They are...dying. The Shimada-gumi is fading. It is not going to be forever. It is fading even now—even faster.

“And now I am free. We have a path that is open to us. A path that is safe for you. In...in time, we can even come forward and—if you a-a-agree, we could be together. We could be....”

He shuddered and went still. What he wanted was so obvious, so blatant. She could not miss it—not when he was practically flaming with his desire. He had been rock-hard in the diner and almost vibrating when she came out with that tray. Now, in the shadows where he could hide her away from the sight of the world, he wanted to crush her in his arms.

“I will not be here long,” he whispered hoarsely. “If we are not.... I do not know the word. But if we are not to be, then you do not need to... to see me.”

Belle barely registered what he was saying. He must be seeing that she was shaking for him to kiss her, to make her dizzy one more time. If she had only this one time, she had to do something. Everything was going so fast—so perfectly—that it had a distinctly fairy tale quality as if he would disappear at midnight.

So, she leaned over and kissed him.

Hanzo’s eyes went wide and instantly his arms were around her. “You are so good, so pure.” An earthquake tremor passed through him as he prayed she was not a fevered dream. “Do not vanish my bishojo.”

Belle nodded as tears filled her. “I am...so tired of... missing you. And now I am.... You are....”

Hanzo sighed. “You are exhausted. I should put you to bed.”

“Only if you come with me,” she blurted.

He let her lead him to the house and around to her back entrance. He followed her to the stairs with his huge bag and the takeout bag of food. She had a nice enough apartment—a good-sized bedroom, a pleasant full bath and a mini fridge and an electric kettle and enough paisley and lacy doilies to make a grown man vomit.

He pulled down the sheets on the bed and helped her lay down. The togo plate was a quick sandwich with chips and he nudged and coaxed her to eat and drink the juice. Actually, it was less noble than that—it was more that they fed each other, totally ignoring the crumbs in the bed.

She laughed and pressed a soft kiss to his chin. “A spot of mustard,” she whispered.

He leaned close and kissed her cheek. “You, too.”

They both stared at the mostly devoured crusts in their hands and tossed them back into the container and shoved it off the bed.

She was on him, straddling his hip with a smile. He was hard and eager and his hands were on her as she leaned down and whispered, “Can I kiss you?”

“Hai, Kirenia,” he whispered back breathlessly.

It started again, a breathless exchange of heated entreaties. She kissed his cheek, whispering in his ears as she undid his pants and pulled off his shirt. She murmured against his chest as he peeled off her shoes and opened her shirt. In moments, they were as naked as each other.

“I want to have you for my own,” he sighed as she kept lapping at his neck. Her hands traced his skin in butterfly touches. “And to save time, I agree to whatever you want to do to me.”

“Me, too,” she nodded with a smile.

He pulled her to straddle his hips and to slide into her. In sibilant slick, he went into her core. “You are heaven on earth.”

She fumbled up and down, feeling him thrusting in return. He growled into her neck as she clamped down and squeezed for all she was worth. Every muscle tensed underneath her, coiling into power that pulled fire into her veins. 

Unexpectedly, he groaned and she could feel him exploding into her. Panting, he looked at her with a fiery flush on his cheeks. “Gomen nasai, Kirenia. It has been ten weeks for me, too.”

She burst out into a chuckle and nodded. “We just need to practice more.”

He nodded and fumbled for some of the paper napkins from Joe’s Diner to clean them up. “I am a good student and want to improve.”

She nodded in return. He had that look in his eyes that said he wasn’t done with her. And then her words blurted out, “I’m pregnant.”

He gaped at her. “I am... somewhat sure you could not say it just yet. We are not even... err... dried off yet.”

She laughed a little bashfully. “Ummm.... I guess I might have been... from before?”

He shook his head and gave her an exasperated smile. “I choose to be with you. There is not a need to coerce me with thoughts of a child.” Still, she stared into his eyes so solidly, he finally nodded. “We could find out—if you are brave....”

Belle shrugged, “If I can date the head of the... ahh, family—I am sure I could pee in a cup.”

He smirked, wriggling to kneel on the bed. “Not with a box or cup.”

“Then how?”

“You must be brave. No screaming.” Again she was nodded, smiling at him in bemusement. “Then we will.

Slowly, his tattoo lit up. The hectic blue outline of a dragon lifted off his skin and turned to face her. As slowly as he had ever been, the dragon floated over to her. Its touch was as insubstantial as ash on the wind as it brushed her inner wrist, her arm and then her clavicle.

“A moment more, Kirenia.”

She nodded as it stared up at her. Its gaze was old and wise in a way she had never seen before. Then it dipped to her soft belly and, with a whoosh she heard and a tickle she had never felt, it slid inside her. Then, as quickly as it went in, it left, and went to Hanzo and coiled around his arm. Then it began nodding and its mouth opened and closed, even though no sound came out.

“I see,” he muttered, smiling. He gave her a warm look and nodded back at insistent creature. It kept going like an old silent movie. “Of course we will take great care.”

The creature cocked its head in a way that was plainly skeptical. Its gaze caught Belle’s stare and it rolled its eyes. To her surprise, another one appeared, floating behind her and curling around her hips lazily and yawning before nodding slightly the other one.

Hanzo shifted slightly as he laughed. “Now, you have a nest and a clutch.” His hand ghosted over the first dragon’s body. “They have decided that they like you. And,” he added with a puff of his chest, “they also have said that you are carrying a little girl.”

Belle puffed and swatted at the first dragon. It dodged with the serpentine ease of one who has been swatted at many times. “You sneaky dragon!”

Hanzo grabbed her wrist and pulled her against him. “You are a treasure. They are sure and have told me—several times—that I must take care of you.”

She laughed as the one that had been around her hips rose up enough to curl around her legs. It looked positively feline as stared up lazily at them. “Well...I told you.”

“Indeed,” he nodded, cradling her closer.

She was warm and alive in his arms. Hanzo marveled at her loose limbed relaxation. Then his hand drifted to her belly. The soft curve was perhaps just a bit fuller, a bit more taut in the way that promised growth. He had a little girl coming—the dragons had told him so. She would be his precious treasure, next to the miracle he held in his arms.

His voice was hoarse and his hands were trembling as he began whispering. “My father was Shimada Sojiro and the kumicho—the head of the family—and we had power and money and respect. But we have had hard times and there is not so much power and respect. Without that, there is no money.

“Genji is my younger brother. He is...supposed to be dead but he has...gone. And then—I am supposed to be the one who murdered him.” He sighed. “When everyone finally is done debating, I am going to be accused. I am to be banished for what everyone thinks I have done.”

“But you said, ‘supposed to be dead’—is that what really happened?”

His voice dropped to an even softer whisper, “He wanted a different path. He has always been an one who thinks of how things should be, how they might be, rather than how they are. He has gone to Overwatch.

“We had thought that he could guide the information about the Shimada. He first said he would try to redirect their investigations and give them decoy information. Information on other yakuza. But it has become more. He wants to make a difference, to set things right. He is to be disguised with armor and tech, but it is him.

“I must take the... the criticism and disfavor. The Shimada-kai think I have assassinated Genji. There is even a record of his death. Overwatch is to betold I injured him in terrible ways and that is why he must wear the armor. I am a wanted man. Neither side has any reason to take me in.

“Yet there is hope. Genji and I have agreed to go to Hanamura each year. Others should see it as me coming to honor his death, but he could know where to find me. And I know where to find him. He says that he would give me time, but he wants to have me join Overwatch with him when the Shimada are weakened enough that I am safe—that we are safe to join him.”

She cuddled close. “What do we do in the meantime?”

“When I am not in Japan each year, I am at your side. I can change my appearance, work in quiet. I admire this town, the ones who support you. Your Cookie and your supervisor. You have a nice apartment—it is cozy—but I want more for our daughter. I want a house—perhaps to rent a house for now—so that she has some comfort and room.” He sighed with a wry smirk. “I am strong and hard work is not a stranger to me. I have a small nest egg, too, and a year’s income for us to start again—if you could forgive me. If you could find some way to see past who I was, I would do anything for that chance.”

Belle nodded, suddenly relaxed to have his arms around her. The strange, airy bodies of the dragons also held her close, as though they were in a nest to keep them safe and warm. For an ethereal moment, it seemed that even their little girl was giving them a bit of warmth. Oh, there would be problems—she knew that there would be problems—but for the moment, things seemed on an even keel.

Still, one thing bothered her. “So what about Jesse? How did that work out? How did we even get on your yakuza radar?”

He chuckled, to cover his sudden anxiousness. “Genji was entertaining some... former associates. Trying to discourage them from moving into the territory and trying to set themselves up an operation of their own. Your Jesse saw him, recognized him, and decided to try interfere. The associates mistook him for an enforcer of some kind and withdrew. In that we were in his debt.

“However, we knew his reputation. He wanted—needed—money and saw us as a fatted cow. We recorded him cheating—bottom card and hidden card tricks—and we were going to report him to the authorities as a cheater and end his chances as a card shark. Instead, he brought you—.”

“I was supposed to distract Genji and then you wouldn’t be focused on him.”

“He was obvious—crude—about his aims. Yet you were so brave that you caught my notice, and I wanted to know more about you. I found out about his gang and your ranch. And how he was wanted by Overwatch for his activities on your home with that gang. He had escaped Overwatch more than once as he moved around with you. 

“When I gave him the invitation, it was a trap set by Overwatch. Do not ask me about the debt, but we owed the commander of Overwatch a life debt and we agreed to assist them in his capture. We knew he would be suspicious if there was only one or two in the game—so we set up the entire tournament for the purpose of driving him to the finishing round when he would be surrounded by Overwatch agents and security. Then they could capture him and he would be arrested and in their power.”

“Then he called me—.”

“He tried to scare you. In Overwatch’s power, I could not stop him from doing that. He wanted to use you to get out of his mess. I could not stop him then, but I was given to understand that his new position for Overwatch would keep him out of trouble.”

Belle nodded lazily, suddenly sleepy. “I won’t be paying him any attention anyway.”

“I could not get your ranch back for you, but I did find this.” He leaned precariously over the edge of the bed and fiddled with his clothes. To her surprise, he pulled out the sapphire necklace and put it around her throat. “Fortunately for me, this is a distinctive piece and when you sold it, I was shown exactly where you were. And I have returned it to you so all that remains is to ask you to marry me.”


	16. Chapter 16

Ten years had flown by. Aided by occasional, anonymous tips, Hanzo had kept his new family safe from the Shimada-gumi. And, in return, each year, he would rip through the estate as a repentant, prodigal son seeming to seek redemption. Every year he would rip through the guards—weakening the defenses and confusing the leadership who truly wanted Sojiro’s ancient line to continue to lead—and go to the temple of the dragons. There, he would light incense and wait. Sometimes his brother was obvious—a window left open or a shadow across the sky—and sometimes it was more of a feeling of warm eyes watching him. Then, Hanzo would get up and rip his way out and rush home to his family.

Each year, he lit sticks of incense. This year, he lit five. He had Aika Jade who was starting second grade in the fall. Next was Timothy Hiro who was a dead ringer for a young Sojiro and who was not starting kindergarten until next fall. Of course, Kirenia was honored here—his dragons were devoted to her and surrounded her whenever they could. Then there was Genji’s long stick—to honor his sacrifice. And because he could not light only four, the fifth stick was for Shogun, the family koi.

There was a whisper behind him and he heard on the breeze. He reached for his hidden knives and weapons. So it seemed that the Shimada kumicho had again hired assassins to wait for his arrival and end the chaos his coming brought rather than fight Hanzo himself. It was getting tiresome. “You are not the first assassin sent to kill me and you will not be the last.”

The heavily armored attacker jumped down into view. “You are bold to come to Shimada castle, the den of your enemies.”

Hanzo studied the voice, trying to find some semblance of familiarity, but the metallic reverberation and tang made it impossible. Still, if the kumicho had finally gathered the wits to hire an Omnic assassin this time, he had improved. “This was once my home. Did your masters not tell you who I was?”

Abruptly, Hanzo moved and fired an arrow. The Omnic moved quickly and it plowed into the wood. The voice chuckled a bit and replied cooly, “I know who you are, Hanzo. I know you come here every year, on the same day. You risk so much to honor someone you murdered.”

Hanzo held his breath for a second. Their code—it meant that this battle was being observed and they needed to play the roles of antagonists just a bit longer. The story preserved Genji’s good name—not that he needed it now—and their father’s honor. And because he had not said ‘someone you assassinated’, he knew his family was still safe. The code was clean—all that remained was to reply in kind and use his acknowledgement phrase.

“You know nothing of what happened.”

The fight was pure and clean and even Hanzo was impressed that they played their roles so well. Whoever was observing would have no doubts that Genji and he were still enemies—if they established identities at all—and that could only flush them out. So, they shouted and taunted each other in a fluid dance that ended with the dragons flaming out.

There—in the shadows and suddenly illuminated by the dragons—was a dark clad man. One of the Shimada men, then, was observing. Hanzo remembered him, noted his position and what he would tell the others. Of course, the dragons were turned away and he pretended to be shocked and amazed.

They leapt aside and out of view, and even there, they pretended in case someone was watching. It wasn’t until he saw that the elder had run inside that he nodded to Genji. It had to be Genji—the dragons would turn aside for no one else. And it was nice to have a moment here, to speak only a word or two to Genji. “Real life is not like the stories our father told us.” Genji only shrugged. “You are a fool for believing it so.”

Genji watched him. “Perhaps I am a fool to think that there is still some hope for you, but I do.” He palmed a tiny hard drive and let it drop at his feet. “Think on that brother.”

Hanzo watched Genji vanish theatrically. With a barely seen motion, he snapped up the drive. Scratched into the plastic side were the characters “All is ready for you”. He went back to the temple, suddenly aware it might be the last time he ever saw this place, this magical temple he had gone to all his life.

He stared at the sticks of incense—all 5 were ash—and took a breath of air. The Shimada were in his past. No more would he be a criminal. With whatever information was on the hard drive, he would follow his brother. He would join Overwatch and his family would at last breathe easy, knowing he was on the right path at last. He could chose his own path. He wouldn’t lead hundreds of men into murder and bloodshed. He could leave this place behind, leave the Shimada-gumi behind, and leave all it in his past. He could choose his path and lead his family to safety—real safety that was a result of following the path of justice and good. He could be a man that Belle would be proud of, that his children would be happy to call ‘father’. That was what really mattered—family and honor.

And that Belle was waiting back at home for him, with the sakura teacups and fresh, hot green tea.


End file.
